Life of a Datsun
by Maverick1997
Summary: A story following Prowl's life, starting with the orn he came online in a laboratory and going right up until his time on earth. Rated for later content. Later: ProwlxJazz
1. Chapter 1

Hey Everyone! This is my NaNoWriMo story, written on my iPad and being added to everyday this month. It is totally unedited so if you find mistakes please point them out to me and I'll fix them after November. I have the most epic plan in my head for this story as I plan on linking it to "To the Academy and Beyond" and another history story which I shall write for Jazz. My OC Spark Soul is in this just like she is in To the Academy and Beyond. She doesn't show up for long so no worries there for those of you who don't like OC's.

* * *

><p>The lights turned down dim in the laboratory. Only the skeleton crew was there, under strict orders from their funder. Machines whirred constantly, technicians checking their readings and ensuring everything was running smoothly. No one talked; the place was like a tomb of the offline.<p>

The laboratory was located deep below Praxus, deep within the tunnel system which made up Cybertron's core. Electricity was fed through a series of wires, each wire coming down a different path to reach the room. There was only one way into the actual lab but there were two tunnels leading to the entrance. Traps were set along each tunnels length to deter intruders, should anyone think of exploring below the shiny exterior of Praxus and it's cheerful facade.

The person in charge, a commanding praxian mech stood watching over proceedings, his heavy gaze not missing a movement made in the lab. In the centre of the room were three frames, each identical in frame type and colouring. These frames were to be brought online, unknown to the Cybertronian frame was laid out upon the benches in the room. Red chevrons adorned the black helms, bodies a mixture of black and white. Helms held processors far too advanced for the younglings they would be when they would come online. Plans were already in place to ensure that at least one of the younglings would have a powerful battle computer installed, a battle computer that was only now being constructed, one that was very much illegal on the planet.

Machines continued to purr as the last checks were run, ensuring that nothing would go wrong in the upcoming procedure. Every reading was double and then triple checked,nothing could go wrong, they only had three tries at this.

Everyone present knew that it would be unlikely that all of the frames would survive although that was the desired outcome. In reality they would be lucky if one of the frames made it through. This was not the first time that they had tried the exact same experiment, not the first time that they had meticulously prepared for bringing younglings into the world through artificial spark creation.

A few of the laboratory workers had their doubts on whether the younglings brought online would ever truly live. The way the processor was designed it would be very difficult or the mech to socialize and even harder for him to feel or analyze emotions. These mechs said nothing, even though they internally cringed at the thought of what they were about to do. Nothing could be one to persuade the head praxian out of this, that much was proved by the off lining of several mechs after they opposed the last round of failed creations. Thoughts were pushed to the side as they focused on the task at hand, morals pushed to the side in favor of keeping their sparks functioning.

With machine readouts stable final checks were run on the youngling frames, ensuring they would be ready for the energy transfer. Energy sat waiting in their fuel lines, coolant ready to be pumped through the brand new systems. The preparation for this Luna cycle had been extensive, not a stone left untouched. Nothing could, or would go wrong, not another time.

Grey frames sat sparkless in the room connecting to the laboratory, a reminder of the previous failures. Lined up against the wall they sat, spark chambers open, looking for all the world like battle mechs killed on the battlefield. However on a closer inspection of the frames you would see that this isn't so, the frames too small, armor too weak to be that of a battle mech or any mech in his last frame. From that you would be able to tell they were just younglings, brought online for just astroseconds before their sparks extinguished. Just an experiment in a lab, an experiment outlawed across the planet because of the damage caused to younglings or mechs who were successfully brought online for the long term. These last three frames couldn't turn out to be like the frames gone before, one would have to survive, no matter the cost.

The frames were cleared for the procedure, each mech within the room hoping that one of these waiting frames would come online, and stay online.

The spark chamber cover was retracted, revealing a glasslike covering. The inside of the spark chambers sat empty, awaiting the generation of a spark. Specially made electricity and energon lines were hooked up to the spark chambers on each frame, thousands of wires and tubes ran around the room and connected to the frames.

A large hum filled the room, drowning out the much softer hum from earlier. Power surged through all of the electricity lines, slowly getting pumped into the spark chambers, filling them with the power. The voltage was slowly increased, creating a pressure in the spark chambers.

Each mech expelled air from their vents in relief, the spark chambers hadn't started to buckle like they had on the previous frames. Maybe one of these frames would make it, a spark nestled within the frame. The praxian mech in charge just watched with a blank gaze, awaiting the formation of the sparks and the on lining of the frames.

The voltage was increased even further, the power running through the crisscrossing electricity lines at an all time high. Within the spark chambers of each of the frames a small spark of light could be seen, increasing with each passing moment that the electricity continued to flow into it's small confinement chamber.

The light reached the size of a normal spark in each of the three frames. The voltage was brought to zero, energon starting to flow into the frames instead. Computer readouts showed that each of the frames was bringing it's processor online, power surging into the demanding systems.

As soon as the processors were up and running optics flickered online for two of the frames. The third frame still couldn't bring it's processor online, the strain started to show on the newly formed spark as it buttered and extinguished, the frame fading to grey. The first loss of the experiment.

The other two younglings, for that is what they were, started to look around the room, their optics darting every which way to capture the data their processors undoubtedly craved. Readouts spiked as the two younglings started to panic. Data flowed through their processors at an extreme rate, a rate which would cause full framed mechs' processor to crash. The second frame's spark started to feel the strain, the advanced processor draining power from every source within the frame, leaving nothing untouched. In a similar fashion the the first frame the spark started to extinguish. The light flickered within its chamber as it was drained, decreasing in size until it could barely be seen. Just astroseconds later the second frame faded to grey, another frame lost to the experiment.

The last frame was still layed out along it's bench, processor working overtime. The frame was under immense stress, energon was being pumped through energon lines at an elevated rate. Optics became shuttered as the frame tried to decrease the amount of sensory information. The usual praxian wings were splayed against the bench surface, a constant source of data input for the reeling processor.

The data became too much and a scream punctuated the air, the humming of the equipment lost, drowned within the desperate sound. The scream became louder as nothing was done to relieve the pressure the youngling was under. Technicians scrambled as they tried to reduce sensory input to the frame, working desperately to eliminate the possibility of the last frame off lining.

Within the processor of the last frame data packets were whizzing backwards and forwards throughout the many connecting neural pathways. So many data packets crammed within the pathways, everything crammed together so close to one another. This was the cause of the pain, too much too close together in such a new processor.

The thought processes, those of younglings who could actually think for themselves were not yet established. Until those processes could be established the only thing that the frame would feel would be base emotions and senses, until a battle computer could be installed. The frame was not designed to function without a battle computer, designed only to run with it installed. Everything was set up within the frame to accommodate the warrior grade equipment, everything about the frame had been set up to make the future mech a warrior, one who would always be ahead of the game.

The screaming started to subside as the technicians dulled sensory information and prepared a vial of sensory duller. Two mechs entered the room as it became silent, walking straight to the last frame. Optics still shuttered and wings pinned to the berth. The syrum was injected straight into the neck cable of the prone mech, dulling all sensory input and giving the overworked processor a break.

Soon after the frame was pulled into stasis using the machines in the room adjacent to the laboratory. Technicians and other lab workers flooded the room, checking over the frame and removing the ones that had off lined. They had finally gotten an experiment to work, one out of hundreds they had attempted.

The expression upon the Praxian mech's face had never changed throughout the whole ordeal, his own battle computer controlling any emotions he may have felt. His expression not even changing when the screams punctured the air or when the two frames fell offline. The process completed so many times, finally one of the many frames coming online, not even their success never managed to bring expression to such blank faceplates.

The head technician stopped next to the upper class praxian, ready to inform him of the developments with the youngling, and the time period for the battle computer installation.

"Sir, the youngling is now in induced stasis and we are going to keep him under for the next two solar cycles. We will then be able to integrate the battle computer into his systems without any issues. From there it should only be deca-Orn before he can be put into the youngling centers, " the technician was met with silence. "We will contact you when he is ready to be sent to the Orn care. Do you have any questions?"

The praxian levelled the technician with a cool look. "I have no questions; this was my project after all. Ensure that nothing goes wrong with the frame, we don't have time to retry the experiment."

"Of course sir."

With that the praxian mech turned and strode from the complex, returning to the unmarred city above, one which gave all pretence of a perfect city. The technician returned to within the lab, taking control of the situation.

The laboratory worked on, never stopping over the next few days. The battle computer system was soon installed, allowing the youngling to control his thoughts, order them into words. Data packets were soon handled easily, whirling around his processor at high speeds, sorted by the tactical asset, a way in which the frame could cope with everything. The emotions which had once been barely there, now suppressed by the rampant programming. Everything that needed to have been learnt in the time between sparkling hood and youngling hood was given to the youngling in data packets. His knowledge grew and his balance was gain din the short amount of time spent in the lab. He still lacked his social skills but they were considered unimportant to the praxian in charge. Everything that was essential to his frame was learnt before they started to prime his battle computer, the tactical asset much more important than the actual mech.

A full deca-Orn passed before the youngling was ready to go to the Orn care and join those his age as if he were a legitimate creation. Background information has been forged and a designation created. The youngling which had been brought online in the lab had the designation Prowl, and this is his story.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading guys! Please review and tell me what you thought of it!<p> 


	2. Meeting SparkSoul

Here is the second chapter everyone, I hope you enjoy reading it. I apologise for this chapter being shorter in length than my usual 2000 words but this wasn't actually planned as a full chapter, a plot bunny just ran away with me trailing behind it.

* * *

><p>His processor was full of information, tactical computer working full speed to sort through it all. The confines of the laboratory had been his home for the past ten orns and the technicians and other staff had been his mentors, his source of information. It was here that he had been taught to balance despite his wings dragging him backwards every time he stood. Walking had been difficult to master but controlling his processor and battle computer had been simple in comparison.<p>

Everyday he was given increasingly challenging tactical data to sort through. The technicians in the lab studied how he sorted through it, every moment of his day watched. He was never alone, had never been without the guidance of his mentors. To be suddenly told that he had to go out into the world beyond this room, without anyone he had come to know was shocking.

Instead he had been told that his creator, or the mech he was required to call creator, would take him to a place with other mechs and femmes his own age but far below his computing level. He had been told not to get to know the others there, or at least not to become fond of them, form friendships. In place of that, he was told to study the others, to note how they reacted to each other, how they interacted with others and their environment. Really, he didn't see the point in this, he was capable of being a full mech and he had already proved he was far beyond the usual capabilities of most final framed mechs.

There were things he still needed to know, to develop. He needed to be able to respond to his designation, Prowl. He needed to be able to uphold the pretence of a normal youngling and in the future a normal mech. He needed to be able to pretend he had feelings, emotion running through the frame, even in the absence of those entities. He needed to be able to function the normal number of joors a day instead of functioning for much longer and on less energon than the average mech. Overall he needed to be able to control his battle computer and rampant processor.

How would the Orn care help him with these skills? How would interacting with other younglings help him? If the benefits were clear he probably wouldn't have an issue with it but so far no benefits had been made clear to him. There were so many flaws in the plans by the technicians that you could use the flimsy thing as a sieve.

It was pitiful how he could see the flaws in their plans when they could not. They had much more experience than him, that he could recognize and still they could not formulate plans properly. Obviously the younglings he would be interacting or observing wouldn't help him with anything, other than pretence they were trying to keep up.

The room around him was ripe with sounds, the humming of machines and the whirring of the vents. From outside the room Prowl could hear the footsteps of the mechs he considered mentors and the cleaning crew could be heard as they swept the corridors. The sound of a light voice was carried to him from somewhere deep within the compound, the noise detected by his door wings.

The sound of unusually loud footsteps could be heard coming closer, approaching the door to the laboratory confidently. The way the sound echoed Prowl could tell it was someone with door wings and of quite some height. Only astroseconds after he detects the sound of footsteps the door swings open, revealing a tall, black praxian mech. The door wings upon his back held at a stiff angle, never twitching or swaying in response to sensory input. His cool yellow optics holding Prowl's own blue optics seemed to be appraising him, analyzing him to make sure he was up to standard, a standard unknown to Prowl.

Without a word this mech gestured to him to follow so he rose from his position upon a berth and followed after this mech. This was the first time he had been outside the room he onlined in. Out here the light seemed to be brighter but still artificial. A long passageway stretched out on either side of him, noise echoing down it's length. The mech in front of him turned to the left and started walking forward at a fast pace.

Doorway upon doorway was ignored as Prowl followed this mech down the everlasting corridors. Just when it seemed that they would walk on forever the mech turned off into a doorway larger than most they had passed. Following right behind the unknown mech he entered the room, sensors tuned to catch the slightest thing that was unusual. Doorwings were held tight, drawn close to his back as he walked through the doorway, battle computer providing him with thousands of scenarios to work through.

The briefest of sensory sweeps allowed him to work out the layout of this unfamiliar room. Along the far side of the room stood a long bench, a sink in the middle of the bench it's silver steel glinting with the artificial light. The light here was dimmer than it was in the corridor and slightly darker than it was in the lab. In the centre of the room was an arrangement of chairs, their comfortable surface allowing for a more social feel to the room. At one side of the room wood an energon dispenser, the liquid within it a dark pink colour, almost tinged red.

Upon the seats in the middle of the room sat a femme, much taller and more commanding than Prowl. Her aura that of someone relaxed in their surroundings. The femmes frame was a rich black with delicate grey lines adorning her helm. Upon her helm sat a red chevron, identical to the one upon Prowl's own helm. The femme sat with an energon cube in her servos, the colour of the liquid was black, unlike the syrupy mixture in the dispenser. Her optics were the most unusual thing about her, their blue coloring much like his own seemed fake, as if she didn't really have optics. Such a notion was absurd but that is what Prowl originally thought when he saw the optics.

Standing in the center of the room Prowl waited for the mech to follow him inside and for someone to say something. He didn't have to wait long because the unknown femme spoke up before the mech had a chance to speak.

"I don't know why you want me here Creator three, it's not like I'm one of your creations. What do you need me for, I don't have long before I need to return home so that I can attend to my schooling with Creator one," the black femme said in such a tone that it sounded as though she had higher standing than the imposing mech.

"You may return home immediately after this SparkSoul, I do not intend to keep you for long. I requested your presence here because I have finally brought one of my creations online and I believe he will fall into your group to care for. Could you please acquaint yourself with my creation, his designation is Prowl. He has a battle computer installed, not quite as powerful as yours or your siblings but powerful nonetheless. He has been online for just over a deca-orn and will enter into the Orn care system as of next Orn," the mech said as he listed off Prowl's main features and drew attention to the black and white frame.

The gaze of the femme, designation SparkSoul, was turned to Prowl. Her door wings flickered briefly as she scrutinized his frame, undoubtedly taking in as many details as possible. After a few dragging astroseconds Prowl felt a tug at his spark, the feeling slightly uncomfortable but seemingly welcome if his spark had anything to say about it. The tug turned into words within his processor.

"Prowl, I am SparkSoul, a creation of creator one and creator two. I am one of the last Praxian ancientsand only slightly ahead of you in development. Each of the younglings, sparklings, mechs and femmes within our extended family has been put into a group. Each group has a leader, an ancient, whose duty it is to protect the others within the group. You will be in my group. To ensure I can help you when I am needed I need to create a sibling bond with you. Will you allow me to do this?"

For Prowl refusing was simply an illogical idea, one that would yield no rewards so he immediately acquiesced to the request. In return it did not take long for him to feel the presence of SparkSoul seep through his spark and establish a connection. The connection soon faded to nothing but an echo of the femmes essence.

Throughout the short time the establishment of the connection took, Prowl had remained standing, door wings held close to his back. The mech who had shown him to the room had also remained standing, his posture showing indifference to the situation.

As soon as the mech, supposedly creator three, noticed that the bond had been established he gestured for Prowl to leave the room ahead of him before turning back to SparkSoul.

"thank you for your time, that was all that was needed," creator said, his voice showing just the barest hint of gratitude.

"I'm glad I came however you must remember that I will be here again if you treat Prowl wrong, he is my charge to care for. I will leave your place now and return above ground to the duties I left to be here," SparkSoul stated, the threat within her final comment clear to all.

Prowl and the mech returned along the corridors they had walked earlier. The lights no longer seemed too bright or the walkways too long. On their return to the lab, creator three said nothing to Prowl, instead leaving him to go inside as his larger frame strode away, purpose in his stride.

Turning to the door Prowl pushed it open before walking right in. The room was much like he left it except now technicians wandered around the room, tinkering with the different experiments and computers within the room. Far off to the side, the doorway leading through to a room he was not allowed to enter, stood open. The open doorway showcased the darkness inside, the absence of light. A slight shudder graced the black and white youngling's frame before he turned to his berth and sat upon it, awaiting the next set of data to work through or the next lesson he would be taught.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Reviews please?<p> 


	3. Orn Care Center

Here is chapter three. This chapter isn't betaed or edited just like the other chapters. I hope you enjoy reading this!

* * *

><p>It was early the next Orn that creator three came back, barging into the laboratory and causing Prowl to wake. The lights came to life as they sensed the motion and the room was filled with their harsh light.<p>

"Come with me Prowl, it is time for you to go to the Orn care," Creator three commanded, his tone icy.

Saying nothing in reply because surely a reply was not wanted, the black and white youngling followed after the demanding mech. He may not have shown it but he was nervous. Supposedly he would be going outside his home's walls, outside the relatively small complex he had been shown. No one he really knew, such as the technicians, would be coming with him. He would be left alone in some place where light was not only artificial but natural as well.

Left with the younglings he would have to observe for joors, secretly formulating plans with his battle computer. The technicians wanted to see his plans upon his return, it was his homework for the day. It wasn't so much being alone that worried him, instead it was the issue of being somewhere unknown to him with unknown mechs and femmes.

Hopping off the berth he followed creator three out of the lab and through the hallways, this time turning to the right after exiting the room. These hallways didn't stretch on for anywhere near as long as the other hallway. Instead they reach a set of imposing double doors which they passed straight through, leading into a dark tunnel. No lights lit the tunnel, instead a very faint light came from somewhere further down. It would be hard to see where they were going and Prowl was sure he would walk into something.

The praxian mech in front of him transformed into a car like form. Each piece of armour folded differently to create this new form. Prowl knew that he would be capable of such a transformation but no one had been bothered to teach him how to.

Creator three started to drive off, slowly at first but soon picking up speed. Prowl started to worry, obviously he wanted him to follow but prowl had no idea how to transform into his vehicle mode.

Instead of standing there and debating with himself he set off after his creator, walking quickly as he tried to keep the larger mech in sight. Before long his legs were starting to tire, his chassis not used to walking for so long. In a desperate attempt to keep up the black and white youngling searched through his HUD looking for some sort of function to trigger his transformation.

When he had thought he had checked through everything he managed to find something which may trigger the transformation sequence. Selecting the function his chassis started to fold and shift, forming into a vehicle mode. Despite never having scanned a form he managed to have one, the technicians must have brought him online with one.

Testing out his engine he jolted forwards, unused to this form of transformation. Instead of taking time to work out how this mode worked he forced his engine to work harder, creating more speed. In this way he managed to catch up to Creator three, now traveling right behind his rear bumper.

They continued on in this fashion until the mech came upon a dead end and came to an abrupt halt. Prowl, traveling so close behind him failed to come to a stop and ran straight into the prone form of creator three. His chassis was made out of much softer than the larger mechs frame was. This caused his bumper to start crumpling, the pain from the contact echoing throughout his sensor net.

In response to the impact creator three transformed into his root mode before turning to glare at the youngling. "Watch where you are going Prowl, I won't stand any shortcomings on your behalf," he snarled, no longer a patient mech.

Turning away from the youngling he punched a code into a lock which had previously been hidden. A ladder was revealed on the once blank wall in front of them. Creator three proceeded to climb the ladder and Prowl followed behind him after a painful transformation into root mode.

Upon arrival at the top of the ladder there was a small platform to stand on and a doorway ahead of them. Passing through the door they entered into a large room, the ceiling stretching up to a height Prowl had never witnessed before. Light came into the room through glass walls, the light softer than the artificial light from down in the complex.

They didn't stop in this room but continued through winding hallways until they reached yet another doorway, this one leading straight out onto a busy Praxus street. The large black mech walked straight outside and onto the pathway before transforming back to his vehicular mode, his engine idling.

Not liking the idea of keeping the somewhat intimidating waiting, Prowl transformed into his transport mode as well, pain wracked his frame, emanating from his crumpled bumper. Ignoring the uncomfortable transformation he idled his engine waiting for creator three to start moving, and start moving he did.

They picked up speed as they travelled the roads, busy with traffic in the early Orn. Not used to having so many people around him, Prowls door wings were trying to bring in as much data as possible. This caused his processor to start frying from too much data so he had to manually shut down the main sensors on his door wings. Unused to driving this gave him a great disadvantage in such traffic and being without his extra sensors just increased the margin. The speed at which they were travelling scared Prowl, unused to controlling this form but he kept up only because he knew there would be punishment if he didn't.

It was in this fashion that the two mechs pulled up in front of the Orn care centre, changing into their bipedal form as they reached the curb. The building wasn't very tall but it sprawled across the small area it had been allocated. Younglings ran around the area which must have been designated for the playground. Light sparked yells and screams filled the playground, the owners having fun running around the outdoor area. A large door connected the playground area to the inside area .

After walking through the gate and into the Orn care the two proceeded inside to sign Prowl in. A desk stood inside, against one of the walls, well out of the way of the energetic occupants of the centre. Inside the room was split up into multiple sections, an area for art such as painting and drawing, an area for reading and yet another area for watching holovids. The centre of the room was free of anything, the area most likely used for when everyone congregated together at the start of major activities or during group times.

A femme walked up to Prowl and his creator as they were signing the black and white youngling in. Customary door wings adorned her back, flicking around lazily as she walked. The femme was blue, pink and white in colouring, the colours strategically placed to make her look friendly to youngling optics.

To Prowl the femme appeared slightly uncoordinated and not of the highest processor calibre. A large smile stayed upon her lip plates never seeming to fade despite all of the younglings running around.

"Hello, are you new to the center?" asked the femme, her voice a soft lilting tone.

"Yes, this is Prowl and he will be attending here now," Creator Three answered curtly, seemingly at the end of his patience where the youngling was concerned.

"How wonderful, I'm sure he'll have fun here. We have heaps that he can do. Currently most of the other younglings outside as this is our preferred time to have them outside. Is there anything he is not allowed to participate in?" questioned the femme, quite obviously trying to speed through the introductions.

"He is not to play outside and he must spend time everyday working through work I have set on a data pad. I am pressed for time so I need to be leaving now. I trust that Prowl will be fine with you," Creator three said before aburptly turning away and exiting the facility.

Prowl stood there, very still as he watched the one bot he actually knew walk away. Now he was surrounded by bots he didn't know, bots who couldn't know anything about his advanced processor or battle computer. An icy feeling claimed his spark as he waited to find out what the femme wanted him to do.

"Well Prowl, what is it that you would like to do? I know you can't play outside but is there something else you want to do?" the femme asked.

"I believe creator said I have a data pad to complete today. I think it would be acceptable if I completed it now, before everything gets more hectic," Prowl replied, his cultured and well spoken voice stunning the caretaker femme.

"Of course I have the data pad. If you would like to take a seat over on one of the chairs by the bench I will go get it for you," the femme said in response, disappearing off to get the work for Prowl to do.

The black and white youngling walked over to the table, walking nimbly on his pedes. Younglings much older than him but in smaller frames ran around within the room and laughter floated through the open doors into the room. Seating himself down Prowl awaited the femme with the data pad and occupied the time by attempting to count how many others there were at the centre.

His battle computer easily kept track of the different younglings, filing the appearances of each one away in his processor as he counted them. The sound of the individual younglings' vocaliser's were recorded and filed next to the appearance and number given to each one.

The advanced tactical asset helped him sort through the data, designed to be able to categorise the frames, appearances, names and other things related to mechs or femmes who were crucial to plans or battle statistics. With such an aid to his counting the process didn't keep the black and white youngling occupied for long but luckily the femme didn't dilly-dally on her quest for the data pad.

The caretaker returned with his data pad and Prowl settled down to complete it. The data pad was full of scenarios for his battle computer to work through. The black and white youngling started filling in the answers to the scenarios, feeding the data into his tactical computer.

The data pad occupied him throughout the day, leaving him next to no time to observe the other younglings. He didn't move from his position on the chair until Creator three returned at the end of the Orn to collect him and take him back to the laboratory.

The caretakers and other creators looked on with stunned expressions as Prowl transformed into his vehicular form, the bent bumper from earlier having been fixed by the younglings self repair systems throughout the day. Expressions turned to ones of disgust as they watched Creator three and Prowl drive off, returning to the underground complex. Low voices could be heard at the Orn care center as the mechs and femmes discussed the atrocity which was giving a mere youngling a vehicular form.

Upon return to the large building they had exited earlier in the Orn, Prowl and the black mech entered the doorway and continued through the hallways, retracing their path from earlier. Once again they travelled down the dark tunnel before they came upon the entrance to the complex. Entering the next doorway the large mech dropped Prowl odd at the laboratory before leaving him alone. The youngling stood in the center if the room fir a few minutes until he went over to his berth and layed down, falling into recharge almost immediately.

This pattern repeated everyday, creator picking prowl up before taking him to the orn care. Prowl then sat with his data pad for the rest if the day until creator three came to pick him up and drop him off back at the laboratory. The pattern never changed until a new mech started coming to the Orn care, this youngling's name was Jazz.

* * *

><p>That's chapter three! Reviews please?<p> 


	4. A New Youngling

Hey Everyone! Here is the slightly revised version of Chapter 4, hopefully you will now be able to read it without killing your eyes in the process. Please read and review. Also, a shout out to Dragonrider2203 for letting me know how bad the formatting is. Also, a shout out to 'Firestreak', thank you for reviewing all the chapters prior to this.

* * *

><p>It was much like a normal Orn for Prowl, awakening in the laboratory before having his customary one cube of energon. The harsh ceiling lights glaring down on the bare area, show casing the laboratory in such a way that it looked extremely clinical. The glass window remained on one side of the room, the glass one way only.<p>

Prowl now knew that on the other side was a room where they monitored him, he had known it for a couple of orns. He had found out when the technicians had rushed in as he attempted to open the door in the corner. His little escapade had cost him dearly, his punishment going without energon for three orns and getting a severe beating by the head technician. He hadn't attempted to enter the room since then, it just wasn't worth the pain it would bring.

SparkSoul had turned up not long after the beating and had berated his creator severely, going so far as to hit him hard in the main part of his chassis, forcing him to crumple. She had then turned to Prowl and checked him over before performing rudimentary repairs on his system. A brief hug and she had been gone again but the youngling now knew that she would be there if he really needed it.

The rest of the repairs had gone slowly without any proper medical attention. The technicians had fixed the cosmetic damage in order to keep with appearances at the Orn care but even now Prowl's systems hadn't fully repaired themselves and every movement caused some sort of pain.

The worst pain had been caused at the Orn center when one of the older younglings had ran into his chair, knocking him straight to the ground. Pain had shot through his body, the sensors on his door wings alight with the stabbing feeling of hitting the ground. The black and white youngling had kept his reaction to himself, schooling his faceplates into a blank facade, much like the one his creator always had.

Two caretakers had hurried over, the other youngling sobbing loudly after colliding with the chair. One of the caretakers came over to him, helping him upright and brushing him off while looking for any signs of damage. The other caretaker picked up the crying youngling and took him over to a different part if the center to soothe the distraught mechling.

Prowl had returned to his seat, the pain never leaving his sensor net. Still the pain ghosted along the net, never leaving him, even in recharge.

Just as Prowl finished his energon cube Creator three entered the room not making a sound nor gesturing before turning on his pede and exiting the lab. The black and white youngling followed right after him, ready for the next Orn at the Orn care center.

By now Prowl was so used to the path they took to get above ground and then to the actual center that he was sure he could travel it alone with no issues. Of course, creator three had to take him each and every Orn because otherwise the people at the center would start talking, much like they did when they found out he had an alternate mode.

Upon his arrival at the Orn care Prowl took his customary seat by the bench after taking the data pad from his creator. From there he worked through the scenarios, each one slightly harder than the last. Younglings ran around the room and others played outside on the playground, just like any other day.

Mid Orn two mechs entered the center, a bouncy youngling at there pedes. The femme caretaker who had first come to get Prowl settled now went over to the three bots by the door. The taller mech, his frame a light blue and white signed the youngling in while the other mech, a Polyhexiam frame of red and white caught the Youngling in a hug. The youngling had a frame just slightly smaller than Prowl's, two blue optics peering out from a black and white helm. Amazing the slightly smaller youngling's colours were exactly the same as Prowl's.

The youngling was released from his hug after squirming away from the red and white mech, obviously eager to go and play. His light blue optics peered around the room and very quickly narrowed in on his fellow black and white youngling sitting on his own with a data pad. Forgetting about his creators the youngling ran over to Prowl, his balance perfect despite his young age.

"Watcha doin'?" the youngling said as he attempted to catch a glimpse of what was on the data pad.

Slightly irritated Prowl darkened the screen on the data pad before turning to his fellow black and white. "I'm doing some things that my creator needs me to do. I don't have much time to talk so if you'll excuse me I'll get back to it," Prowl replied.

"Well tha's no fun. You should come play wit' me instead!" proposed Jazz as he bounced a little on his pedes, a pleading expression on his face.

"I do not want to go and play so you will need to find another youngling to play with," explained Prowl, getting more irritated by the second.

"But...I want to play wit' you!" he whined, starting to get upset.

"Look, I'm not allowed to play with the other younglings, yourself included so you will have to find someone else," the door winged mech said, his tone final as he turned back to his data pad.

In turning back to his scenarios he didn't see the energon start pool in the smaller youngling's optics or how one managed to escape and make a trail down white faceplates. The youngling turned away from the door winged mech who was pouring over his scenarios and ran out into the playground, desperate for someone to play with.

It didn't take long for that small mech to be interacting with multiple younglings and playing a massive game of tag in the outdoor area. Prowl continued with his scenarios, the sounds of laugher and fun from outside making a tempting proposal but he continued on.

Once again Jazz came inside to attempt to draw the rude door winged youngling out into the playground to play with him and his new friends. The other younglings, his new friends, had told him that the black and white youngling sat inside, on the same chair every day. Apparently he hadn't played with anyone since coming to the Orn care.

Bolstered with courage after making some new friends Jazz returned inside, walking up to the where the larger black and white youngling sat. The mech didn't even turn to him, he was so engrossed with the data pad.

"Watcha doin' now?" Jazz asked, curious as to what was so interesting on the data pad.

Prowl turned his helm sharply at the interruption. He had been working through a particularly difficult scenario and his battle computer was still working through it, making it hard to concentrate on the youngling in front of him.

"I'm still working on this data pad. If you could, please go back to playing with the other younglings because you are distracting," Prowl asked, battle computer straining with the effort of running scenarios and talking to Jazz at the same time.

"Nope, I'm not goin' ta go play wit' the other younglings cause I want to play wit' you," Jazz said, refusing to give in to the larger youngling.

His battle computer straining Prowl decided on a compromise, if only to ease the pressure building within his helm. "I'll come play with you as soon as I finish this next little bit but I've just got to get this bit done."

"Well...okay then, I'll sit wit' ya till ya finished," Jazz said, deciding that this was the best deal he was going to get.

The larger black and white youngling swiftly returned to the scenario, relieving the building pressure as he stopped trying to multitask. It didn't take him too long after that to complete the scenario and type it into his data pad. Jazz on the other hand found it a very long time to be sitting still.

Swinging his legs backwards and forwards as he sat on the chair next to Prowl, the smaller youngling waited as patiently as he could. Every couple of astroseconds he would look around the room, head swinging side to side and his tried to take in the whole room. After only half a breem he started to hum under his breath, anything to keep himself occupied. If he had to have sat there any longer he would have started singing aloud or at least started to talk to himself. It just wasn't fun to sit still for so long, no fun at all.

Luckily Prowl finished just as Jazz started contemplating the idea of talking to himself, under his exvents of course. The larger black and white youngling shutting down the datapad and hopping off of his chair before walking over to one of the caretakers and handing them the datapad. After thanking the femme he had been talking to he turned to Jazz who had followed his newfound "friend" across the room.

"Now that I'm finished with the homework creator set, what would you like us to play?" Prowl asked, ready to just get some playing over and done with so that he wouldn't be bothered in future.

"Well, first ya gotta tell meh yah name! Ah'm Jazz!" Jazz exclaimed as he looked expectantly at Prowl.

"My designation is Prowl and it's nice to meet you Jazz," the larger black and white youngling replied, going along with the smaller youngling's antics.

"Well… now that ah know ya and ya know meh I think it's time to go play. We can go play chasies in the playground wit' my other friends!" Jazz said, jumping slightly on his pedes in excitement.

"Very well, we shall go play this game 'chasies' as you call it. First though, you're going to need to teach me how to play," Prowl said, confused as to what this game was.

"Wha'? Yah've nevah played chasies before? Well chasies is where ya chase yah're friends around the playground an' try to tag 'em. If yah're in then ya have to chase the others but if ya aren't in then you have tah run away as fas' as ya can!" Explained Jazz as he tried to drag a reluctant Prowl out towards the playground.

"I'm not too sure about this Jazz, I'm not very good at running," Prowl explained, hesitant to play this game. In all aspects it sounded as though it could be quite dangerous.

As they reached the playground Prowl looked around at the other younglings. None of the other younglings who were outside had doorwings and the very few who did were off playing in the metal shavings pit. The younglings gathered for the game of chasies had small frames without doorwings or helm fins. From the very outset Prowl could tell that he wouldn't do well at this game, not well at all. Still, he decided to at least try the game, if only to placate Jazz.

Jazz rounded up the other younglings, getting them in a big group, ready to start their game of chasies. Gathered in a large circle they all got ready to do the customary game of '21' to find out who would be in first.

"Twen-ty one is in, sucked in," was cried in unison by all the younglings as they simultaneously put their servos into the circle with as many digits showing as they wished.

Jazz went round the circle counting each of the digits which were in. The majority of the younglings had put in only one digit so as to reduce their chance of becoming it. Prowl just barely escaped becoming it for the first round, instead one of the younglings two places down ended up in.

The group split off and started running in all different directions, trying to put as much space between them and the 'in' youngling as possible. Prowl followed Jazz through the playground despite being no where near as nimble or fast as the smaller youngling.

The larger black and white youngling pulled his doorwings in close to his body to prevent as much drag as possible but still he was slightly off balance as he ran. Within the lab he hadn't been taught to run, only to walk and still, he only just managed to keep his balance while walking. Of course, it was a known fact that younglings with doorwings took much longer to get their center of balance and gain a steady gait but many of the younglings didn't know of such things.

It wasn't long before the 'in' youngling came running around the playground, trying to find someone who would be easy to tag. His golden optics narrowed in on Prowl as he stumbled slightly in his bid to get away from the agile youngling. The 'in' youngling followed straight after the black and white doorwinger, catching up to him easily. Within astroseconds Prowl was tagged and it was his turn to try to tag someone else.

Prowl looked around the playground for someone who he might be able to catch but his battle processor easily determined that there were no younglings that he would logically be able to tag. Ignoring this conclusion he set his optics on one of the younglings and ran straight after him, stumbling and teetering slightly as he tried to catch up.

No matter how hard he tried Prowl was never able to catch up. His doorwings kept him off balance the whole time he was running and there was just no way he would be able to catch up to the other younglings by simply walking. Despite this he continued to try to tag the other younglings but he just couldn't catch them.

Eventually the other younglings became bored with the game and wandered off to start up another game in a different part of the playground. At first Prowl though Jazz would run off with the rest of the group but instead he appeared right by the taller youngling's side.

"Ah'm sure yah will catch one of us next time Prowl! Ya just need ta get a little faster wit' your running skills," Jazz said in encouragement, seeing Prowl's somewhat downcast expression.

"I'm not too sure about that Jazz, I am much better at games which don't involve running around because my doorwings always make me off balance," Prowl explained, as he turned to head inside.

It was at that moment that he noticed his creator standing in the doorway into the orn care center, looking for him. The regal doorwings on the large mech's back were held stiffly, pulled in close to his chassis. Optics narrowed as they spotted Prowl standing with another youngling, their interaction obvious to anyone who would look upon them.

Inside Prowl was cringing, knowing that a punishment would be in store for him when he arrived back at the compound. It was against the rules to play with the other younglings and not all of the battle scenarios had been solved. It wouldn't matter how much Prowl tried to explain his actions logically there was no way creator would listen.

After quickly saying good-bye to Jazz, Prowl strode quickly across the playground area and over to his creator. When he was within audio-shot of the massive mech he could hear the low growl of the elder's engines.

No words were exchanged as they left the orn care, winding their way through busy streets back to the building which hid the entrance to the underground complex. Prowl knew he wouldn't be punished until they got below ground but that didn't stop him from shutting down many of his sensors and unnecessary relays on their journey.

Creator three shoved Prowl through the door to the laboratory, the force sending the youngling crashing to the floor. Pulling himself to his feet the black and white youngling stood his ground, optics meeting with those of his tormentor. Blows rained down upon his small chassis, pain rippling through his sensor net despite many sensors being turned to a lower sensitivity. He felt the harsh tear as his doorwings were partially ripped from his back, the pain unlike anything he had previously experienced. Warnings flashed across Prowl's HUD, his processor reeling with the data coming from his sensors.

Blows continued to fall upon his chassis even as he fell to the ground, not bothering to regain his footing. Creator three never let up until over a breem had passed. With a final kick to the soft, quivering chassis the mech departed, never once looking back upon the youngling he had punished so severely.

Lying there upon the hard floor Prowl didn't bother to move, it wouldn't yield any rewards. Energon tears made faint tracks upon his white flaceplates, falling silently and ever faster. The day which had started out like any other had ended horribly but there had been a few moments of happiness, something Prowl had never thought he would feel. Along with that, somewhere inside his spark the youngling knew he had made a friend, whether or not that connection would be beneficial he would come to know in the passing deca-cycles.

* * *

><p>That's all for this chappie, the next one is currently up. Please review!<p> 


	5. Jazz's Plan

Hey everyone! Here is chapter five...woot! There are heaps of mistakes here which I blame on how fast I'm typing. Word wars have been my friend so far and I think they shall continue to be. Chapter six is started and that's what I'm working on now. I apologise for the really bad formatting in the last chapter, I'll be fixing it up pretty soon. That's all for now. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter!

* * *

><p>It was three orns before Prowl was able to return to the Orn care centre. The damage to his chassis had been extensive, the repairs painstaking and long. His systems, still with lingering damage from his first punishment continued to be left unmended. Once again only the outside of his chassis had been fixed, the rest left to self repair systems, struggling with the effort.<p>

The pain he had originally felt hadn't dulled but he had shut down as many systems as possible and had let his battle computer take over. He couldn't feel much now, his mind somewhat detached from his frame.

After falling into stasis Prowl had come back online to SparkSoul gently lifting him onto one of the berths. She had said something quietly, soothingly to him just before he fell back into stasis. By the time he came online again SparkSoul had left and the laboratory was in darkness.

The rest of his Luna cycle was restless, Prowl never really falling back into recharge. No position was comfortable to lie in, it didn't matter which part of his chassis touched the berth, everything hurt. His invents were harsh, every small moving incurring agony that was instantly suppressed. The high speed the battle computer was working at to suppress these feelings kept Prowl from recharge.

When the Luna cycle faded and the solar cycle started Prowl was wide awake, flecks of white marring his usually pure blue optics. Just like any other Orn creator three entered the lab to just turn and walk straight out. For the youngling it was a struggle to even move, never mind climb down off of the berth.

Walking was a struggle, the black and white youngling's systems reeling with the effort of staying upright. His already poor balanced impacted severely by the malfunctioning circuits which had been damaged during the beating and never fixed. Stumbling slightly the small doorwinger walked to the doorway and through the hallways.

There was no way he could keep up with creator who was taking long, fast strides but he tried his best. The second the large, black mach turned into his alternate mode the youngling followed. Prowl's battle computer only just managed to suppress the pain the transformation caused to shoot through his systems. His engines started up after much encouragement and he slowly jolted forwards, following in his creator's wake.

The trip through the city was worse than normal. It was a struggle for Prowl to detect others around him because of his sensors being dulled or in some cases, shut down. His driving was notoriously bad but if creator three noticed it he didn't make a comment on it as their usual silence code was kept.

The change back into root mode was just as bad as the transformation into his vehicle mode had been. As soon as he was fully locked into his upright mode, Prowl drew his door wings close to his back, held as stiffly and regally as possible.

Creator three signed the youngling in without so much as a glance around the Orn care. After handing Prowl a data pad full of calculations and scenarios the imposing mech turned and left swiftly, leaving his only creation standing there in agony.

It was with a heavy spark and an internal battle against his battle computer that Prowl returned to his usual seat, data pad in servo. The strain that his battle computer was already under would impede his ability to run through scenarios effectively. However, switching on all of his relays and relieving his tactical asset of the duty of dulling the pain just wasn't an option in such an open place. With that thought in mind Prowl turned to his data pad, determined to work through the calculations and scenarios without relinquishing his grip on the pain.

The younglings determination didn't last long when he found pressure building up in his helm from the immense strain. The only way to keep creator happy and not fry hid processor would be to stop forcing his battle computer into multitasking. So it was with great reluctance that Prowl released the constraints on his relays and sensor nets.

A barrage of information and sensations was released into his processor in a forceful wave, crashing through any firewall that could have been constructed. Every sensor was alight, pain rushing through his systems, almost crippling in it's force. Outwardly he strained to keep a cool facade while inside he was breaking down, each new gust from the ventilation system causing him more anguish.

It was at this inopportune moment that Jazz and his creators walked into the Orn care center. Jazz's optics darting around the room, obviously looking for someone in particular. A look of hope was plastered across his faceplates, his expression wistful.

The searching optics lit up when they spotted Prowl in his customary chair, optics focused on his data pad. A small servo reached out to tap his creator's white leg before gesturing to the lone youngling.

Impatiently Jazz dragged his creator towards his newest 'best' friend. The ground between the sign in desk was eaten up quickly by Jazz's creator's long strides and the younglings eager pede steps.

Prowl was distracted, not actually focusing on his data pad. Instead he was still trying to reign in the different sensations coming from his sensor nets, including his door wings. He was so distracted that he didn't even notice Jazz arrive or how he and his Creatir walked across the room towards him.

The first he knew of Jazz's prescence was when a slightly smaller servo than his owner snatched the data pad from his hands. head whipping up in indignation Prowl finally noticed that Jazz had arrived, with his creator.

"Heya Prowler! Why havent ya been here lately? Ah've been looking for ya!" Jazz asked exuberantly, hopping around in excitement.

"I have had other things to attend to Jazz," Prowl replied, his formal tone surprising Jazz's creator as much as his cool outer facade did.

Behind the facade Prowl was in anguish, all sensors in his door wings alight because of the close proximity of the two bots. The damaged appendages sent error messages straight to his HUD along with scrambled messages for his CPU.

"Aw, but ah missed ya Prowler! Can ya come play wit' me today? We can play a differen' game from las' time, there's got ta be a differen' game ya'll like," Jazz said, very happy to see his friend again.

Jazz's creator on the other hand, could tell something was wrong with the other youngling. His door wings were being held too tightly, too stiffly against the small chassis. The intuitive mech could also see through the facade although he couldn't quite tell what was wrong with the small black and white mech.

Prowl didn't respond, silenced by the pain on his sensor net. He couldn't see Jazz and his creator because of all the error signs across his HUD. The black and white youngling tried to clear through the backlog of information so that he could talk with his fellow youngling. He knew his pretense of everything being fine wouldn't hold up if he couldn't talk without error signs or if he couldn't walk without shadows of pain flickering across his face plates.

He ignored everything on his HUD, responding to Jazz. "Not today Jazz, creator has set me more work to do and I need to finish it. As for the games, you know I won't be any good at anything that involves running so you will have to think hard about something I can play. Even if you do find one to play I won't be able to join in for at least a couple of orns because of this work to finish and because I'm not meant to be talking with any of the younglings here," Prowl said, his thinking muddled slightly by all of the relays between his processor and battle computer being clogged up by errors.

"Aww, can ya get ya stuff done quickly so we can go play? I'm sure ah can find somethin' for us ta do!" Jazz needled, really wanting to play with Prowl.

"My creator tells me I'm not allowed to play with any of the younglings here and I will be punished if I don't do what he says. I'm sorry Jazz but I cannot play with you today," Prowl replied, ignoring the needling tone.

"But ya played wit' me the ot'er day!" Jazz whined.

"Yes, I did but I also got severely punished for that Jazz. I cannot play with you today and that is final," Prowl said, switching on his data pad which had fallen offline and returning to the work his creator had set.

Jazz's creator steered him away from the other youngling and swept his creation up into a hug before saying goodbye and leaving with his bonded. This left Jazz to his own devices for the rest of the orn and he was determined to find a way that Prowl could play with him and not get the other youngling punished.

He didn't come up with a plan until just after energon break. He knew his plan was reliant upon them keeping an eye out for Prowl's creator but he just couldn't think of any other way to get around the restrictions in place. This situation just wasn't like trying to get extra energon treats, it was slightly more difficult. Walking over to his fellow black and white youngling he prepared to outline his plan, hopeful that the other youngling would accept his idea.

Prowl figured he must have heard Jazz's footsteps approaching but his processor didn't register them. Admittedly his processor wasn't registering much other than errors and the scenarios he was attempting to solve. None of the plans he was coming up with had very high probability rates, his highest rate today being a mere 76%. If nothing else, his creator would be mad at him for not putting together a better plan with a good success rate. As he didn't register the other youngling's foosteps the first time he noticed that Jazz was by his side was when a servo tapped him on his back, setting off multiple sensors in the area.

Turning his head to the side and shutting of the data pad, Prowl fixed Jazz with a cool look. His doorwings were held tightly against his back like they had been throughout the whole day, now they were starting to ache with the effort it took. Still, letting them waver and fall from this position would mean he would be more likely to display his pain and others may spot the shabbily disguised welds along the line of his back.

"Ah've figured out how ya can come and play wit' me Prowl!," Jazz announced, receiving no reply from his fellow black and white he decided to soldier on. "If we only play when ya're creator isn' here then he won' know that ya're playing wit' me. We coul' keep a lookout for him at the end of the orn when he usually comes and then ya could rush inside an' sit down wit' yahr data pad again. What do ya think Prowl?"

"Your plan has some minor flaws but overall it could work. However I am not sure why you are so desperate to get me to play with you," Prowl replied, battle computer dissecting and analysing this new plan being set before him.

A wide grin spread across Jazz's lipplates, lightling up his faceplates. His optics seemed to glow slightly brighter with his happiness. Now Prowl would be able to play with him and not get in trouble!

"I would still need to fill out the datapads otherwise I would get into trouble. That would mean I would have to increase my efficiency by about fifty percent to allow us time to 'play'. Also, it would be best if we told at least one caretaker to be on the lookout for my creator, that way it is not only us trying to detect his prescence. Also, one of the caretakers may be able to see him when he is still far enough away that I can quickly grab my data pad and reseat myself. Overall the plan is quite good and should serve our purposes well," Prowl said after much deliberation.

The tricky thing for him would be increasing his efficiency by fifty percent. It would mean he would have to do something about the pain, or maybe if he refuelled at the mid-orn energon break he would be able to sustain a faster pace. Admittedly he would need to limit the amount of energon going to his self repair systems, ultimately slowing down the process of relieving the pain permanently.

"We don' have ta get a caretaker ta be a lookout, I know tha mech in charge of tha security here, he can help us look for ya creator!" Jazz stated, happy that he could be so helpful to the bigger, and in his mind, older, youngling.

"Hm, that would be better than a caretaker. I have almost finished with my datapads, if you give me a few more breems I can have them finished and we can go talk to the head of security," Prowl said, a slightly brighter outlook now that he would be able to be like the other younglings, even a little bit.

"Ah'll go play a game of chasies while ya finish then! Come an' get me when ya're finished," Jazz said as he turned and ran back into the playground.

With this Prowl turned back to his data pad, working quickly to complete the rest of the scenarios it contained.

When he had finished with the work his creator had set, Prowl handed the data pad to one of the caretakers before going outside to look for Jazz. He was thankful that he didn't have to go near any of the climbing equipment to find Jazz. Instead the other youngling came rushing over to him the moment he stepped foot outside. The playground area had been full of energetic younglings running backwards and forwards, paying no attention to their surroundings. To go anywhere near the other younglings there did not appeal to Prowl, mainly because he was certain he would be run into.

The two black and white younglings returned inside, walking to the back of the room over by the holovid area. From there Jazz took the lead, pressing up against the wall as he crept towards a doorway off to the side of the holovid screen. Prowl attempted to follow suit, his frame not as well built for such tasks unlike his new friend's.

Getting the locked door open proved no challenge for Jazz and soon they were creeping down a hallway, a hallway which reminded Prowl of the underground complex no one knew anything about. This hallway was well lit though with lights no where near as harsh as the ones used in the compound where Prowl had been brought online. The walls were a pale yellow colour, making the light softer than what Prowl thought possible.

Doors were spaced at even intervals along the corridor, each one identical. Jazz seemed to know which door he was looking for, pushing forward past the doors they were passing, obviously knowing the halls well despite only just coming to the orn care center. It wasn't until they could see the end of the hallway in front of them that Jazz pushed open a door to their left.

The tall door swung open with ease, the hinges well oiled and functioning well. The room that it revealed was full of computer monitors, each one showing a different part of the orn care and streets around it. In front of the monitors sat a fairly large mech in comparison to the caretakers at the center, his chassis red and white with a small amount of grey. He was small when compared to Prowl's creator or even SparkSoul but he looked like someone who might run security, or at least that's what Prowl thought.

They tried to creep into the room but they were stopped in their tracks by the mech.

"What do you two think you are doing here?" the mech said, his voice on the verge of hysteria.

"Relax Red Alert it's jus' me, Jazz an' my friend prowl. We need a hand..." Jazz said, trying to placate the older mech.

The mech swivelled his chair so that he was facing the two younglings. Little arcs of electricity whipped between his two horns, showing just how on the edge he was. His blue optics focused on the two of them, obviously trying to make an assessment of their intentions.

"Very well Jazz, but you can't just bring people in here, this place needs to be kept hidden from any people who would want to jeopardize security," the red and white mech said as his optics swept over each of the monitors.

"We need ya help Red Alert, Prowl's creator won' let him play wit me but we figured out a way for us ta play together. Howevah we need a hand! Can ya keep a lookout for Prowl's creator for us? He's the mech that brought Prowl in this mornin'," Jazz said, attempting to use an innocent optic look to help plead the case.

The look wasn't what convinced the security mech to look for the creator, instead it was the way Jazz's friend held himself. From vorns of working as a security mech Red Alert knew that there was no way a praxian held their doorwings that stiffly for any length of time, and he knew for a fact that the youngling had held them that way all day. As well as this he had seen the look on the black and white youngling's creators faceplates when he had found the youngling playing with Jazz, and the look wasn't good.

"I'll keep a lookout for this creator for you but I will need to be able to tell you both quickly. If you would like I could give one of you my data code so that I could send you a data burst when he gets into range," Red Alert proposed, thinking it would be the most efficient way to contact the two younglings while they were playing.

"That sounds like a very good idea Red Alert, thank you for your help," Prowl said, the first time he had spoken since he and Jazz had journeyed down the hallways.

The tone of voice Prowl used startled the security mech. He had been certain that this youngling would speak similarly to the other younglings, not so formal and in a much lighter, cheerful tone. Instead this youngling spoke properly, almost as if he hadn't had to develop his speech skills. Of course, there was no way that this yoiungling would be one of the few brought online illegally with a fully developed processor, Praxus was against it too much.

He, himself had been brought online with a fully developed chassis and processor but then again he was one of five, a gestalt, brought online with the purpose of serving as part of a team to defend a city. The gestalt hadn't been moved to the city defence yet but their services at the orn care and surrounding area were a stepping stone to getting there. It wouldn't be long before he and the rest of his gestalt, preprogrammed mechs, would be the ones taking over the city defence. Their promotion only hinged on the older gestalt, the one currently in that position, being retired.

He watched as the two younglings walked out the door, marveling at their similarities and differences. As Prowl walked out the door a mark upon his doorwings came to the security mech's attention. There was a long, welded gash along the left doorwing, so close to the joint that it could have blended in with it. It was this small detail that spurred the suspicion in his processor, no youngling was usually left without proper medical attention unless it was the creator who had damaged the youngling.

The return trip through the hallway was quick and efficient, neither youngling bothered to creep along, instead both just walked quickly and quietly back to the first door they had come through. They opened this door cautiously, to ensure no one saw them return to the main room of the center. Luckily no one was around, the solar cycle much too nice for any of the other younglings to be sitting in front of the holovid.

The two black and white younglings walked straight over to where Prowl usually sat, keeping in step with one another. On arrival there, Jazz looked around the room, trying to think of something they could play together. Most things outside wouldn't work because of the other younglings or the fact that games outside usually involved running or climbing, neither activity being something his friend enjoyed. In reality there was really only a few options, getting out one of the board games or going outside and into the metal shavings pit.

To Jazz the idea of the metal shavings pit was much more enticing than any board game. Sitting still was difficult for him but at least if they were in the metal shavings pit he would be doing something remotely active. Board games were nothing but sitting, staring at a board and moving pieces around it. Jazz was sure that he would die of boredom if they played a board game, well that and he was quite sure that Prowl would beat him in any game. Older younglings were always better at board games, that was the known rule.

Jazz may not have come to this orn care center for very long but he had been to other ones, some here in Praxus and others in Iacon or Tyger Pax. His family had moved often, his two creators being show mechs meant that they would get more work the more they moved. If they stayed in one place too long their act would get boring and they would make less credits around the club because they would be a fixture in that city.

"Prowl, let's go an' play in tha metal shavin's pit. I reckon it'll be lots o' fun and we won' have ta run aroun' or anythin'," Jazz proposed as he looked at Prowl expectantly.

"I suppose that would be okay, the other younglings won't come running into us or anything?" Prowl asked, wary of the damage the other younglings could unknowingly cause.

"They neva' run over to the metal shavin's pit cause it ain't no fun for them there. It'll be fun, ya'll see!" Jazz reassured as he dragged the other youngling outside.

The two younglings played in the metal shavings pit for the remainder of the orn. They talked about anything that came into Jazz's mind, usually music or performances. It surprised the smaller mech to find out that Prowl had never gone to a concert or seen a performance. Really, it shocked the youngling to know that a creator wouldn't take their youngling to see such things. Prowl tried to explain that it wasn't what interested his family but Jazz didn't really get the concept of it.

Red Alert notified Jazz when he spotted Prowl's creator coming towards the orn care center, allowing the two younglings time to separate and get Prowl cleaned and back into his usual seat, datapad in hand. The two had acted quickly and swiftly to get Prowl ready before Jazz had darted away to join the other younglings. They could only hope that Prowl's creator wouldn't pick up on the fact that Prowl hadn't been sitting there throughout the orn.

From the moment creator walked in the door Prowl knew that he had no idea of what had happened that day. Prowl fought to keep a smile hidden, Jazz's plan had worked and now he would be able to play with his friend during the orn and not get into trouble. Admittedly it would cost him dearly when it came to his repair systems and his damaged relays but he could deal with that. He certainly didn't like seeing Jazz upset.

That orn Prowl and his creator left the orn care peacefully, the large mech unaware as to what had gone on that day or that his creation was breaking his strict rules. This was the orn that Prowl was finally releived of the fear he felt when interacting with the other younglings.

From then on it was usual to see Prowl sitting in his chair for the first half of the orn, working quickly on his data pad. Jazz would leave the other black and white youngling alone as he worked through the scenarios. They would meet up at the energon break, Prowl taking a cube of energon and downing it quickly. His systems ran hard each day, self repair systems on hold.

For the rest of the orn the two younglings would play together outside, usually in the sandpit. Jazz still couldn't convince Prowl to try to play chasies again or play on the playground equipment. He didn't push the matter too hard but he did wish the two of them could play more active games together.

A few of the orns they were playing together they had appalling weather and all of the younglings had to stay inside for the full orn. This impeded Prowl's efforts at getting his data pad completed but the two still managed to find time to play together. On these days the two black and white younglings would play board games, Prowl almost always beating his slightly smaller counterpart, just like Jazz had expected.

Each and every day Red Alert sent Jazz a data burst when he detected the larger youngling's creator approaching. In this way they would quickly get Prowl back to his seat, the completed data pad with him. The caretakers soon learnt of their plan and helped when they could, retrieving the data pad the astrosecond the two younglings started over to the usual chair and handing it to Prowl.

Throughout these orns Jazz and Prowl became closer friends, the larger black and white youngling getting better at interacting with other bots, especially the other younglings. the bond between the two black and whites increased orn by orn until soon they were very near inseperable.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Review please?<p> 


	6. Meeting Jazz's Creator

Hey everyone! This is going to be a slightly longer author's note than usual. First of all thankyou to everyone who has favourited or alerted this story, it means a lot to me. I'll eventually get around to PMing you all, once NaNo is over. Currently this is my longest story yet, wow! I've already started chapter seven and my total for the story is resting just over 17000 words. Word wars have been my friend so far and I hope they continue to be.

I must admit the characters have run away with me, Creator Three, Prowl and SparkSoul to be exact. This wasn't quite where I was planning to go but anything works so long as I have muse. I'll hopefully be able to get on track after a couple of chapters, it just seems to be the youngling years which are running away with me.

That's all for now and I'll let you get on to reading the story. Please read and review!

* * *

><p>It was a decacycle before Jazz tried to reintroduce his creator to his friend. Prowl and Jazz had become very close friends and Jazz desperately wanted his friend to come over one orn so that they could play. His creator hadn't been so sure about the idea after seeing the façade the other youngling held when he had previously met him. Jazz's pleading had eventually gotten through to him and he agreed to meet the black and white youngling again.<p>

When they arrived at the orn care center Prowl was already there, seated upon his usual seat. The pain in his body had become a dull ache, his chassis becoming used to the stress on the different damaged sensors. His self repair systems hadn't fixed anything since his punishment, too much energy going into his battle computer or his processor to allow any for his repair systems.

Somwhere in the back of his processor he knew that he couldn't continue like this, with systems so severly damaged. Soon, someone would notice and it wouldn't end well. There was no way anyone could find out about his creator or how he was brought online. His creator had told him that if the authorities found out they would offline Prowl, something he was afraid of. He wanted to live, he wanted to see Cybertron. Admittedly he didn't like his battle computer, or his lack of emotions but he certaintly didn't want to be offlined. For those reasons he knew he couldn't give anything away but something would have to be done soon otherwise he would fall into stasis without meaning too.

Today his chassis was struggling, the energon he had consumed early in the orn doing nothing to help him function. He had been taking two cubes of energon everyday but still he was struggling with the strain. Improviing his efficiency by 50% hadn't worked well, he struggled to keep his efficiency so high and he paid dearly for it with his battle computer starting to glitch on him, sometimes stuffing up the relays between it and his processor. There was no way that this would resolve itself well, this Prowl knew. He knew he needed medical attention, proper medical attention. The laboratory engineers would no longer suffice for his repairs. The youngling knew his systems were deteriorating slowly, but steadily.

He looked up from his datapad as Jazz stopped next to him, for once noticing what was going on around him. He could probably blame that on his doorwings which were being oversensitive. Every gust from the ventilation systems caused his sensors to light up with pain. With his sensor net being so sensitive he could feel every little shift in air temperature and air direction shift within the room. Every movement from his chassis was painful and now the proximity of Jazz and his creator was as well.

"Heya Prowl! This is mah creator, he's here ta meet yam" Jazz said as he gestured towards the tall mech beside him.

"It's nice to meet you Prowl, Jazz tells me a lot about you. I am happy that he has found such a good friend," the mech said, his voice lilting and musical to the audio receivers.

The mech knelt down to his knees to get on the same level as the two younglings. The movement caused a gust of air to glide over Prowl's oversensitive doorwings. Errors flashed across Prowl's HUD as the sensors lit up with pain. Each error that was shut down just spurred another three errors to pop up. Prowl tried desperately to work through them, to shut down his sensors to allow him to stay online. The most prominent warning in his HUD being that he would fall into stasis immediately.

Jazz's creator saw that the youngling wasn't focused on the conversation, his optics somewhat unfocused. It was upon closer inspection that the mech saw the youngling had specks of white within his optics. This gave it away to the performer, this youngling wasn't in very good health.

Prowl recovered slightly and refocused his optics as best he could, ignoring his HUD. He reverted to rerouting everything into his battle computer, including senses and his emotions. The change was noticed by the mech but not the other youngling present.

"Wha' da ya think abou' mah creator Prowl? He's mah favourite! Da ya want tah come over ta mah place next orn?" Jazz asked excitedly, not noticing what was happening around him.

Prowl's doorwings came closer to his back as he turned to talk to his friend. He never got to say anything in reply because just as his lipplates opened to reply to Jazz's needling, Prowl fell from his chair, lurching sideways onto the floor. His optics shut down rapidly, body going straight into stasis. His doorwings which had been held stiffly were relaxed but that showed off the not very well disguised welds close to the base of the wings.

Jazz's creator leapt forwards to check on the youngling, calling one of the caretakers over as he did so. Energon tears started to trickle down Jazz's faceplates, the experience of seeing his friend falling offline throwing his emotions into a whirl. The smaller black and white youngling's other creator then came over, sweeping Jazz up into his arms. Soft servos ran along the small helm with practiced ease, attempting to soothe away the little youngling's distress.

The orn care centre was awhirl with activity as caretakers came over to Prowl, trying to find out what was wrong with their charge. The medics were called when nothing the caretakers did garnered a response. All the while Jazz's creator held the youngling close to his chassis, keeping his helm off of the ground.

It was a swift response from the medics, two turned up within breems of being contacted. They relieved the red and white mech of the youngling and carried him outside before one of the medics folded into his vehicle form and the other mech placed the youngling inside. Soon the two medics were peeling out of the orn care center, heading straight for the hospital where two medics trained in youngling care awaited their arrival.

Back at the orn care Jazz was sobbing in his creators arms, afraid for his friend. He had no idea what was going on, much less what was wrong with his friend. Prowl had been fine for orns, he had been playing with Jazz just fine. It shocked the youngling greatly to see his best friend fall offline like that. Jazz was worried for his friend, especially if his creator found out and punished him,. What if it was because of him that Prowl had fallen into stasis like that? The thought plagued the black and white youngling.

Prowl couldn't say anything, he knew he wasn't fully online. However his audio receivers were still functioning because his battle computer was online. His optics may not have been working, they had short circuited but he could hear everything around him. The medics were worried, rightly so. From what he could hear his processor had gone offline because of the damage to his chassis. They were horrified at how bad the damage was, how it hadn't been fixed before now.

One of the two medics radioed ahead and warned them to prepare the operating theatre. Prowl could tell it was bad, really bad. He had known that his chassis wasn't repairing itself but he didn't think it would go this far. Apparantely his inside wires were becoming corroded because of an energon leak. He hadn't known that he had an energon leak, he had blamed it on trying to increase his efficiency. It would have explained how he always felt extra tired at the end of the orn or the uncomfortable feeling in the right side of his chassis.

The mech he was inside seemed to speed up as the sounds of the traffic faded. The words exchanged between the two mechs were terse and to the point. Their vocalisers sounded stressed, overly so. Prowl's frame hurt all over and he just wished he was fully in stasis, it wasn't fun to be half online and getting jolted around a lot.

Two doors opened and a large amount of air swept over him. The pain garnered a reaction from the black and white youngling, a soft keen escaping his vocaliser. The sound seemed to stun the mechs as they stopped talking and moving for an astrosecond. Then the voices started back up.

"He's still online, we'll need to get some sedatives in him!" a mech said from somewhere towards his feet.

"I can't believe he isn't in stasis yet, the damage is incredible," a femme said from somewhere near the mech.

Prowl was shifted from where he had been lying, swept up into the arms of the mech as he was rushed inside the medical centre. Every movement caused him intense pain, soft keens and moans escaping his vocaliser. He had no hold over his appendages, his doorwings limp and unresponsive to any commands he gave them. His battle computer could no longer dull the pain, the connection between it and his processor had been partially disconnected. He was lost inside his own helm, without any control over his vocaliser.

He wished desperately to be able to tell the medics around him that his doorwings hurt, that his sensor net felt like it was on fire. However he couldn't do that, all he could do was hope that they would shut down his sensors before they operated. the technicians didn't always shut down his sensors, usually saving that for his most sensitive systems. Right now though he just wished he could escape the pain he had been fighting for orns.

Somewhere in the back of his processor Prowl wondered where Jazz was, and if he was blaming himself. Prowl knew that his friend was the type to blame himself, especially since Jazz had come up with the plan for escaping his creator's notice at the orn care center. Although this had nothing to do with that, or at least nothing to do with the plan, the other youngling didn't know that and would be blaming himself. Prowl hoped that Jazz's creator would convince him that it wasn't his fault, because it certainly wasn't!

The black and white youngling was also wondering what his creator would say. The large mech would undoubtedly be angry with him and most likely punish the small mechling. Prowl knew that having the medics working on him wouldn't be good, they may find out about his battle computer or his modifications that no youngling should have. They oculd even find out that he wasn't a normal creation, that he had been brought online illegally.

His spark pulsed with worry, sending a subconscious signal to SparkSoul where she was hanging out with her friends at the Academy. None of them noticed the subtle change in her posture as she focused her attentions to the weak link with Prowl. The link was emanating pain and instantly she was worried for the youngling's welfare. SparkSoul excused herself from her friends and left in search of Prowl, focusing on the bond to lead her to him.

Prowl didn't notice SparkSoul connecting the bond, he was too caught up in the agony. The medics had yet to give him any painkillers and he was suffering because of it. The youngling wished they would hurry up, they couldn't know how much this hurt. Small movements by the mech who was carrying him triggered his sensor net, every step was painful.

The black and white youngling almost didn't notice when he was placed on the berth, too caught up in the agony. A syringe was stuck into his neck, a numbing sensation spreading through his chassis. The pain was chased away, relieving the youngling of the burden he had been carrying for decacycles.

The medics were quick to act as they wheeled the youngling into surgery. They had a lot to do, and not a whole lot of time to do it in. They were amazed at the levels of damage the small chassis had and more surprised by the fact the youngling had lasted so long without medical attention. So far they hadn't been able to contact the creator, despite their best efforts. They had no idea whether or not the family even had the funds to warrant such a surgery but they went ahead anyway, they couldn't waste such a young life.

The surgery was long, medics switching over every few joors to make sure that the operating mechs were fresh. It took a full orn of work for the youngling to be in a stable condition. The creator had still not been located or contacted, a fact which shocked the medics there.

Their surgery had also revealed the fact the youngling had a battle computer installed, a very advanced one at that. The piece of machinery had obviously been the reason why the black and white mechling had managed for so long. The damage had to be deca-cycles old for the errosion to get so bad. There were tell-tale signs of a shabby repair job, most likely by an engineer or technician, on the chassis. Dodgy welds sealed shut the doorwings and concealed the fact that most of the reflex lines were damaged.

The caretakers at the center had been contacted after the youngling had been entered into the surgery room, the medics searching for any reason for the severe damage. The fact that the youngling had been holding his doorwings so stiffly was explained by the damage although more could be explained by the creator of the youngling. The key to this all was the creator, that they were sure of.

Along with the battle computer the surgery had revealed that the youngling had a spark anomaly, the energy output of the spark being above that of the average youngling. Usually a youngling of that size would only put out a maximum of 70cyteros whereas this youngling's spark was emitting 90 cyteros, well above the normal average. The readout was much closer to that of a full mech, dangerously high for a youngling. The wires and systems within the chassis were much too new for the supposed age of the youngling. The medics hated to think it, but the youngling was most likely an illegal one.

They kept Prowl sedated, his battle computer idle as they waited for the repairs to set in. The black and white youngling was moved to the youngling ward and placed into a room, ensuring that he wouldn't become more damaged from the other younglings. Monitors were hooked up to his delicate systems, making sure that he would stay online.

No one turned up at the medical center until well into the lunar cycle. SparkSoul was the first person to get there, Creator three still not bothering to show up.

Creator three had showed up at the orn care at his usual time to collect Prowl, it was then he was told that his youngling had been whisked away to the nearest medical center. Unbeknownst to the mech and femme caretakers the large mech was furious as he stormed out of the center. They had thought that he was worried for the youngling, and rightly so. However that was not the case, Creator three was much more worried about the repercussions that could happen if the medics found out how Prowl was brought online, or what type of processor and battle computer he had installed.

The large black mech returned to the compound, intent on making alternate arrangements for himself, the youngling and the workers there. He knew there was no way they could hang around Praxus, they would need to shift to a different city, most likely Iacon. Arrangements were made quickly, credits ensuring quickness and silence on behalf of the people working for Creator Three. Within the orn the compound was packed up and shifted, the house once occupied by a Praxian noble was now abandoned.

Under the cover of the lunar cycle the large mech entered the medical center, bypassing the front desk and following the locator beacon to his creation. He had had the locator becon installed in all of the protoforms in case they came online. This way he would always be able to find his creation and it was especially handy it times like this.

When he came upon Prowl's room he was somewhat stunned to find that SparkSoul was already there, seated next to the youngling's berth. There were multiple machines hooked up to the black and white chassis and an energon line was steadily pumping energon into Prowl's systems.

These things didn't really matter to the mech, the only thing on his processor being to get out of the city immediately. Ignoring the femme in the room he walked straight over to the monitors and started disconnecting their power source. He then disconnected everything from Prowl's chassis before lifting the youngling into his arms.

SparkSoul looked at him with icy optics, detesting him for the damage he had caused to the small frame. He didn't particularly care, she wouldn't be able to do anything after they had left the city.

"I told you what would happen if you hurt him again. You obviously didn't listen to me," the femme said, her voice cold and unforgiving.

"You will not be able to stop me, we will be leaving the city immediately and you have no power away from Praxus," Creator three sneered, contempt for the femme undisguised in his voice.

"You would be surprised at how much power I do have outside of the city. Unlike my creator I am not bound to Praxus, you should have known that, I do go to the academy in Iacon remember?" SparkSoul said, an amused look flickering across her face plates.

"He is my creation and no concern of yours," was Creator three's final words as he turned at left the room.

The large mech used the service hallways and stairs to get out of the orn care. The back streets were abandoned at such an hour, none of the Praxus enforcers bothering with the slums. For Creator three it was the best way to get out of the city undetected. He would meet up with the other mechs and femmes from the complex just outside the city. From there they would split up and go to the base in Iacon, already set up in case of such an occurrence.

The youngling in his arms never stirred as he left Praxus behind. Prowl's life would change drastically now, and certainly not for the best.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Reviews please?<p> 


	7. The Start of a Glitch

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter 7. At first I didn't really like this chapter but there was no way I was going to redo it, it is nano after all. I hope you enjoy reading it and I'd love to have some reviews. I know there are a lot of people reading this (yes, there really is such a thing as story stats) and I'd love to have just a couple more reviews. This chapter is unbeta-ed but I'll get around to it after nano...way after nano. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and everyone who has added this story to their alerts/favourites lists, I really appreciate it. Enough of my chit chat, it's time to read the chappie!

* * *

><p>Deca-cycles passed and Prowl never returned to the youngling center. Jazz looked for his friend every orn to no avail. He became good friends with the other younglings but he never forgot Prowl. His creator had tried to convince the youngling that Prowl's collapse wasn't his fault, as was the disappearance. Jazz never listened to his creators, instead blaming himself for the disappearance of his friend and his collapse.<p>

In Iacon Prowl's life hadn't improved, instead it had gotten steadily worse. He was never reentered into any orn care, an increase in training substituted for it. Now he not only had to complete scenarios and calculations, he was also being trained how to fight. Creator three took it upon himself to train the youngling, resulting in the black and white mechling becoming severely damaged after each session.

The imposing mech didn't actually teach Prowl any moves, his way of teaching leant towards the idea that if he smashed the youngling enough, Prowl would learn. In this manner it took Prowl deca-cycles to be able to defend himself for even three breems. The sessions lasted for joors and every time Prowl ended up getting patched by the technicians and engineers who had moved with them to Iacon.

The black and white youngling never saw the city of Iacon because he was kept inside their place of residence, a house slightly smaller than the one in Praxus. There were a few proper recharge rooms but mainly the house was filled with a training room, laboratories and two weapons rooms.

The first orn he managed to defend himself against his creator was just like any other orn. The training session had started harsh, Creator three's blows as heavy as always. Each time the mech's servos swung down they collided with some part of Prowl's chassis, usually his helm or chest, with a loud clang. The noise would reverberate around the room and cause the youngling's audios to ring.

Prowl tried to hit creator, servos clenched, ready to strike. Each time he attempted to hit the big mech his servo was met with air, the bigger frame darting out of the way. The few times he managed to hit the chassis his servo buckled slightly. He could no longer feel the pain when he was damaged, even when his energon lines became punctured. Prowl had been able to design his own line of programming and install it in his processor, rerouting everything through his battle computer, including emotions and sensors. Now they were permanently routed that way, instead of being held there.

Creator three made a blatant error in the middle of the session, leaving his side unguarded. Prowl spotted the weakness and immediately acted on it, not relying on his battle computer to tell him the course of action. He swung his servo out and punched it through the chink in the armour, catching his digits on the different wires within the protoform. Gripping anything he could get a hold of Prowl yanked with everything he had, desperate to not lose the fight. The better he got the more upgrades he would be allowed, that was the deal.

His efforts were rewarded as creator three let out a yell of pain, a servo going to his side. Prowl withdrew his servo swiftly and scrambled into a standing position. The youngling backed up against the nearest wall, arms out in front of his chassis, ready to defend himself.

Creator three's optics met with those of the black and white mechling's. Within his optics there was a look of amusement, undoubtedly because of the younglings achievement. Prowl was weary, such looks never meant anything good. In the past it had meant going without rations or being punished. Either way he knew he wouldn't be having a fun couple of orns.

It surprised Prowl when it wasn't a punishment that resulted from his action in the battle training session. Amazingly he had scored upgrades, not only to his chassis but his battle computer as well. Later in the orn he was taken offline for the upgrades.

The technicians and engineers had decided to skip three of the battle computer upgrades in order to go straight to their developmental battle computer. To them, and creator three, it was the most advanced battle computer ever made. Unbeknownst to them, SparkSoul and her siblings currently had battle computers ten times the strength of this one installed. They knew that Creator One's creations all had advanced battle computers but just how advanced they were had been kept secret. Unknown to the technicians and engineers it had taken vorns upon vorns of work to get a battle computer so advanced to be stable. SparkSoul's battle computer was actually stable, unlike the one they were about to hook up to Prowl. There were very few ways to make such an advanced piece of equipment stay stable and one of the best ways of doing so was linking it through the spark so that it ran on spark power. The way this battle computer was designed it would run on energon with no link whatsoever to Prowl's spark.

This meant that the emotions coming from Prowl's spark would collide with the tactical programming from the battle computer within the younglings processor. The minor collisions between the two wouldn't cause any major issues but if the differences between the two pieces of coding became to large then Prowl's processor would fry when the pieces of coding tried to overrun one another.

The technicians and engineers didn't know about these issues though and they had found no faults with the battle computer so far. The operation was delicate as they hooked up the battle computer, linking it straight into Prowl's advanced processor. The second issue these mechs didn't know about was the fact that if the battle computer was updated, the processor needed updating too. If the processor was running slower than the battle computer or was running on different coding then it would create small glitches in the battle computer as the two pieces of equipment interacted. Not knowingly these mechs were the cause of the glitch that Prowl would carry through the rest of his life cycle.

With the new battle computer in place they worked on updating the youngling's armour. They thickened the plating in certain areas, mainly around the spark chamber and helm. This allowed Prowl's more delicate systems to be protected the best they could be. Along with the plating being thickened the mechs worked on giving Prowl his first weapon, namely a acid pellet rifle. This was yet another experimental design by the engineers, untested except for on drones.

They made sure to set up the weapon so that it could only fire on a command from Creator three, not allowing the youngling a choice in the matter. The mechs thought nothing of the lack of choice the youngling would experience because in their optics the black and white youngling was just an experiment, not a real bot.

The procedure was long and arduous and by the time they had finished the moons had risen over Iacon. Prowl was kept offline for the remainder of the cycle, his systems getting accustomed to the new equipment.

If any medic had looked over the operation sight they would easily be able to tell that it wasn't done properly. The welds were shabby, not sanded down. The splicing between the inner wires was done badly, able to fall loose easily.

Creator three had no intention to ever take Prowl to any medical centre, simply because he would be caught out for having an illegal creation. They had been far too close to being found out in Praxus and they would never have been able to get the youngling into the Praxian enforcer academy.

The large mech knew that Cybertron was preparing for rocky times although many others had no idea. The gladiator rings were already becoming unsettled despite more and more people watching the matches. The rings were becoming a whole other industry, the shadier mechs in the society thriving upon the illegal dealings that went on there. Bots who were down on luck or from a particularly harsh background battled there, gaining many credits if they won.

The battles themselves were starting to change from sparring battles into full on blood baths. The mechs who had originally ruled the rings were now being pushed aside in favour of the younger mechs rising through the ranks there.

Creator three already knew that the enforcers were becoming corrupted and soon they would be aligned with the rings. Prowl would make the plans for the enforcers when it was time for the underground mechs to rise up and take on the council.

The black mech was already aligned with those in the rings, more specifically a promising new mech rising up. He had known this new mech's creators for vorns. This mech's name was Megatron and his ideals aligned very closely to Creator three's. The whole project had been to bring a youngling online who would be an asset to the tram Megatron planned on putting together in the future vorns.

The youngling would serve as a tactician for the silver mech and help him rise up and take over the council. This would be the change which Cybertron needed to rise from the slump it was in, the cybertronians would have power and live in an equal world under Megatron, in a society the council had never been able to create.

The next step in his plan had been enacted today, Prowl now had the experimental computer installed and new armor along with a weapon. This was only one of the first steps. The next step would be to change the youngling's chassis completely. His current one just wouldn't do, it wouldn't be able to cope with the extra armor and weapons he needed. In the meant time he would have together the youngling used to his new weapon and accustomed to any new pain it could cause.

There was a reason behind the harsh training sessions and the way Prowl always got injured. It would teach the youngling to ignore pain. The next step would be to make sure he could ignore his emotions and feelings. He wouldn't be as susceptible to persuasion or weakness once he had mastered these things.

Creator three knew Prowl would still be a youngling by the time Megatron rose into power. Of course such a technicality wouldn't matter in the long run, the black and white youngling would cope. It didn't particularly matter what side affects there would be for the mechling, the only thing that mattered was that he functioned in the capacity needed and by Primus Creator Three would ensure he did.

Of course an area he hadn't previously thought about was the services Megatron might need. In the middle of a war there wouldn't be many femmes, so he would need a good mknow who would know how to pleasure him. Just another thing he would have to ensure Prowl was good at.

Prowl came online slowly, all of his systems recalibrating. The first thing he was met with were messages on HUD requesting permission to link up with his rifle. The request stunned him because he hadn't been told he was getting a weapon, just that he was increasing the strength of his armor and getting a more advanced battle computer.

After accepting the request more popped up in his HUD although these ones were expected. One was requesting permission for his battle computer to be calibrated and another was alerting him that he would have to transform in order to let his new armor settle properly.

He accepted the calibration request and slipped off of the berth in order to transform. The new armor felt stiff and clunky, the extra weight almost throwing him off balance. He made a mental note that he would have to make allowances for the extra weight.

The transformation into vehicle mode took much longer than usual because the armor plates had to be rearranged to fit. His vehicle mode stayed the same in shape and colour however his plates were in different areas than before, the feeling unnerving.

He sensed a movement within the room and tried to transform back quickly but he was much too late, his creators clenched servo smashing straight through his boot area. The metal squealed as it tore the sound strangely bot like for only being metal.

Prowl, himself made no noise, opting instead for utilizing his new battle computer. He found it much easier to shut down the pain relays with the new equipment. The astroseconds the servo was removed he transformed back to root mode before whirling around to face his creator.

He brought up his servos so that they were just in front of his chassis, ready to punch the black mech in front of him. Creator three was in a very similar pose, waiting on the youngling's attack. The damage to his chassis had been fully repaired while Prowl was in stasis but the youngling's own chassis hadn't been repaired.

In the long run this would teach the black and white youngling's systems to repair themselves without rest and without all of the nutrients it would need. Prowl should have been having enriched energon to aid his systems through the repair process. The youngling had never realized that was why his repairs were so sluggish and he would never know.

Prowl darted forward the second he though his creator was slightly distracted. His first punch hit thin air but as he twirled he blocked a hit coming his way. Without letting his creator recover he pushed his own attack forward, launching out one pede to hit him in his lower leg before punching him in the faceplates. He sashayed back as the large mech started to stumble, ensuring he was out of the way in case the black mech fell.

He noted that his new battle computer was making him much faster, the tactical asset assessing the situation so quickly that every movement he pulled was successive and without thought. To someone watching it would seem as if he had been fighting well for vorns after being trained by a professional.

Prowl decided that he would download some more hand to hand combat scenarios to learn from. It may help him in future training sessions with his creator or in actual combat.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand he noticed that his creator was once again standing upright, looking at him with steady optics. A small trickle of energon made a trail down his cheek plate but that seemed to be the only cosmetic damage.

Without a word the mech turned and walked from the medbay, leaving Prowl standing there watching his path. Prowl didn't turn to his berth until his creator left the room, unsure if that was actually the end of the battle.

After climbing on the berth the black and white youngling sat there working through all of the settings on his battle computer. He rewrote the coding he had had on his previous battle computer and put it into place. He ignored the pain in his chassis easily with the aid of the battle computer.

He slipped back into recharge not long after finishing the setting for his battle computer. The youngling didn't even notice the pain from his new installations or the sparking of internal wires.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Review please?<p> 


	8. Preparation

Hey Everyone! This is a relatively short chapter however that's because the characters ran away with me, more specifically Creator Three. *Holds up white flag* I swear this wasn't in the planning, I swear it! If you want to skip it shouldn't be too detrimental to the plot. The next chapter should be much cleaner (yay!) and this won't affect the plot too much so long as you know it was Prowl that got assaulted... Reviews please? This is my first non-con scene so constructive criticism welcome, not that I'll fix it until after nano.

Don't Like, Don't Read

**Warnings: Rape (non-con), graphic**

* * *

><p>The next vorn was full of intense training sessions, Prowl improving slowly. His new battle computer aided him in developing his skills and soon he was getting the upper hand in every battle.<p>

Creator three monitored the youngling's progress with a keen eye, waiting until he would be able to up the ante. Every session Prowl improved, the closer he was coming to the harsh session Creator three had in mind.

The Orn finally came when Creator three decided to put his plan into action. He started off the session like any other sparring session. However half-way through he showed off his power, smashing the youngling straight into the hard floor.

His plating buckled slightly as he collided with the floor, ignoring the pain like he always did. Prowl struggled against his creator's grip, trying to get control of the situation.

The black mech didn't allow the youngling to get up, instead he triggered the door to open. Into the room strode a black mech with a blue chevron on his helm. His chassis design was very similar to SparkSoul's, so much so that Prowl's battle computer was telling him that there was a 98% chance that they were related.

Th appearance of a new mech didn't really put Prowl off as he continued to struggle. What did alarm him was the fact that his creator released him and left the room so swiftly that the he barely saw the backs of his door wings before he was out of sight.

Prowl turned all of his attention to the mech holding him down, his name unknown. His bid to get out from under his grip never ceased or waned. The longer he was held down the faster the fear started to seep into his spark.

The mech brought his servos up, in such a manner that Prowl thought he would have a new whole in his chassis. Instead of the punch he was expecting, soft digits traced his the side of his helm. The digits stopped in their tracks when they reached his chin, gripping it so tightly some of the plating buckled.

His optics met those of the blue chevroned mech. What he saw there scared him, made him quiver. Within those red optics was death, seen and delivered. The mech transmitted everything through those optics, so much so that Prowl could see what was coming.

The servo which had yet to move now trailed along his chassis, moving ever closer to his cod plating. The tremors in his chasssis increased as the fight within him started to diminish. He no longer tried to fight back as the mech pressed his chassis to him. He was much too afraid, his processor screaming at him to get away.

Contradictory to this was his battle computer which was trying to run statistics on his ability to get away. The figures were not in favor of an escape, probability said that he would end up offline.

His body responded to each caress despite his processor screaming that it wasn't right. Every touch lit his body on fire. The harsh grips caused pain to flick across his sensor net but he just blocked it. Prowl's spark quivered, he was extremely stressed.

Both servos had trailed down his body, digits now digging into the seams between his plating. The wires in his joints were tugged, hard. The response from his system was pleasure, and pain. The digits softly ran over his cod plate, trying to stimulate it enough to open.

It was obviously taking too long for the mech as he switched from gentle touches to ripping away the cod piece, regardless of the pain. Cold air hit Prowl's spike and valve In a wave, the sensation causing him to shiver.

The mech didn't waste any time, instead he plunged two fingers into the virgin valve, breaking straight through the seal. Prowl couldn't suppress the pain from the digits, his battle computer had no control over those sensors.

The youngling could feel the two rough digits against the walls of his valve, the feeling extremely uncomfortable. He could feel a trickle of energon sliding down the inside of his leg, originating from somewhere Inside him.

The mech's optics met with Prowl's, no expression within them. The black and white youngling tried to reach through the bond to SparkSoul but came up against a block, firmly in place.

"I have blocked the bond so my insolent sister can't come to save you. You're on your own now. scared?" the mech snarled in a low tone, right next to his audios.

A look of horror crossed his faceplates. A small whine escaped him as his lipped quivered. It was the first time that the blue chevroned mech could actually tell that the chassis beneath him belonged to a youngling.

The digits within him started to pump and every time they were plunged into his valve Prowl let out a soft keen. He could feel the insides of his valve starting to tear, more energon starting to run down his thighs, staining them a dark pink.

Prowl's lip plates were soon caught up in the blue chevroned mech's ones. The lip plates on his own were coarse, unforgiving. An unwelcome glossary forced it's way into Prowl's mouth, the feeling almost causing Prowl to regurgitate the energon he had consumed earlier.

Suddenly Prowl felt something rubbing up against his leg, extremely close to his valve. Before he could even attempt to get away the spike was within his valve, penetrating him with force. His valve seared as the spike stretched and tore the walls. Energon started gushing down Prowl's leg as he let out a loud keen.

The mech above him started to move, setting an extremely slow place. Each thrust tore Prowl's valve more energon to trickle from his valve. Tears started to fall from Prowl's optics, making tracks along his faceplates.

The black and white youngling zoned out from the room, consciousness retreating into his processor. He didn't notice when the blue chevroned mech overloaded or when he pulled out of his ruined valved. He only slightly stirred as his abuser left the room, optics flickering slightly.

Prowl came around enough to latch onto his bond with SparkSoul, the block gone now that the mech had left. He didn't fall into recharge, instead he lay there listlessly letting SparkSoul comfort him through the bond.

He heard SparkSoul burst through the door, heard her sharp intake of air. Her soft foot falls came ever closer before he saw his helm within his line of sight. Her optics shone with worry and more than a glint of anger.

Gentle arms wrapped themselves around the black and white youngling's chassis. The comfort that the touch gave soothed Prowl immensely despite his internal struggle. The arms too similar to those of the mech who had raped him but he pushed the thought aside.

Ever so gentle digits ran along his chassis, probably over scrape marks and places where his paint had been chipped. He felt the soft pressure of his cod piece being replaced before he was lifted from the floor.

Steady arms held him as he was carried through the hallways. SparkSoul whispered calm, comforting words that fell on deaf audio receivers. Prowl's optics glazed over, the pain he was in resonating through his chassis. The sound of a slow drip echoed along the hallway as well as the rhythmic pede falls.

Somewhere in the back of Prowl's processor he registered the supple surface of a berth beneath him. A warm chassis pressed up against his back while arms he hadn't even realized had left him once again wrapped around his chassis.

The youngling never fell into recharge, not that SparkSoul expected it. Her own creator had come up with a similar idea when she had been younger, the emotional scars from the experience still marring her. She kept him company throughout the lunar cycle.

During the middle of the lunar cycle Prowl started to cry, softly at first but soon in loud sobs his frame rattling with each one. Energon tears created a never ending stream across his faceplates as he turned and curled into SparkSoul's chassis. Her servos ran up and down Prowl's back soothingly, a soft hum coming from her vocaliser.

It took the youngling joors to even slightly calm down. It was Prowl's battle computer which eventually brought him under control, his conflicting emotions finally catching up to him. His processor and battle computer came conflicted at one point, throwing him for a spin. SparkSoul didn't notice but the youngling had a major internal battle, trying to keep a tight leash on his emotions. Eventually the war between his processor and battle computer came to an end, the battle computer winning. His emotions from the orn were filed away, buried deep within the filing system of the software. I was as if his mind had been wiped clear, the events not ever happening, emotionally that is. With the emotions locked away he still had the memories and the soreness but he knew he could deal with that, barely.

However, locking away the emotions from the orn also meant he locked up all of his emotions behind a cool façade. SparkSoul saw this change in him and wondered what had occurred. The energon tears stopped falling, small servos scrubbing them away. Faceplates once consumed with pain and emotion now devoid of anything except a steely resolve. The black and white younglings optics hardened, giving the appearance of blue ice. It was like this that he fell into recharge in SparkSoul's arms, the femme sneaking away just as the solar cycle started. She knew Prowl would be strong enough to get through this, after all, he had been put into her group hadn't he?

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Reviews please?<p> 


	9. The Academy

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter nine! I apologise for the wait but it took me a while to get into this chapter. You'll be glad that our favourite saboteur shall be here soon (in the next couple of chapters). The story is finally starting to get a little more interesting (I think anyway). I hope you enjoy reading this chapter, which gets better towards the end I swear. Nano is going well (try 26k now) so look forward to updates as soon as I get each chapter done. Your reviews get me that much more motivated. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far or placed this story on their favourites/alerts lists. Now, enough of my talking... *shuts up and lets the readers go read*

* * *

><p>The next vorns were spent continuing training until the orn came that Creator Three decided it was time to enter Prowl into the Praxian Enforcers Academy. The mech decided that Prowl was ready for it, his battle computer having been upgraded multiple times over the last two vorns. His armour was now that of a fully grown mech, weapons installed and properly calibrated. No longer did Creator Three have the override for the weapons installed on Prowl's frame, instead he was now in control of them himself.<p>

The black and white youngling was now considered a fully grown mech by all of those at the house in Iacon. Of course, SparkSoul considered him both a mech and youngling. She, herself, was still considered a youngling due to the elongated period of time needed for an ancient to mature. Now Prowl was older than her, chassis wise, but still younger than her spark wise.

Prowl had used the rape and subsequent torture sessions to make himself stronger. No longer did he show emotion or even recognise them. They were now just something to be filed away in his battle computer, letting logic and probability dictate him now.

With each upgrade of his battle computer he had been having more and more problems with his emotions conflicting with the battle computer. Occassionally emotions would rise up over him and he wouldn't be able to suppress them, his battle computer then shutting down automatically to get control of the situation. In these scenarios Prowl found somewhere out of sight of the rest of the household to let his battle computer go on the fritz. The black and white mech knew he would be punished by his creator, or the engineers, if it was found that his emotions were conflicting with this special piece of tactical equipment.

This time in close proximity to creator three and the engineers had made Prowl realise that he was considered an experiment, something to utilise. In essence, he was a tool. The realisation didn't bother Prowl as much as he thought it might have. He finally put it down to the fact that he must have always known it subconsciously and only now he had figured it out.

At this current point in time Prowl was sitting in the recharge room he had been granted after his latest upgrades. The room was cramped but it served its purpose well. There was a berth, larger and more comfortable than any other that Prowl had slept on as well as a large desk off to one side. Other than that the room was devoid of anything, even data pads.

The room now served as the perfect place to let his battle computer go on the fritz, instead of random janitor cupboards. Other than that the room was only used to recharge in.

Creator three had left the room for Prowl, never entering it unless it was to provide "special" training for the mech. Occassionally when left alone and not in recharge the mech thought about his friend from the orn care, his memory files of his time there somewhat corrupted by all of the software upgrades. He remembered the youngling though, simply because it had been the only real companionship he had ever experienced.

Prowl never lingered too long on the memories, it was just too difficult to linger on them. Usually each file had inbuilt emotional responses, too long spent thinking about the memories and his battle computer started to go into glitch mode. Sometimes the black and white mech resented the engineers but his battle computer would reason that it wasn't their fault, instead it was his creators.

It surprised Prowl when the door to his quarters slid open, revealing the silhouetted figure of his creator. The figure didn't step into the room, a voice filling the room in replacement of the figure.

"You will be returning to Praxus in the solar cycle Prowl. I have arranged for you to study at the enforcing academy there. You will be going specialising in tactical planning and self defence while taking your other main courses needed. You will need nothing except a few datapads and some energon. I will accompany you to the station where you will catch one of the transport ships. Be prepared for the journey in four joors," the mech said, leaving straight after delivering his message.

A stunned silence filled the room as Prowl thought over what this would mean for him. It scared and intrigued him that he would return to the city he was brought online in and spent the first few vorns of his life cycle in. He spent a brief moment wondering whether or not Jazz would still be in the city. He pushed the thought from his processor as he lay down and fell into recharge, setting an internal alarm to wake him up in three and a half joors.

Unbeknownst to Prowl, Jazz had been in Iacon for a vorn at the academy not far from their place of residence. Prowl had never left the house so he hadn't seen any of Iacon or it's surrounding areas. If he had have gone outside, or gone through the public schooling system he would have run into Jazz. Unfortunately it didn't happen, leaving Jazz feeling guilty over Prowl's disappearance and collapse.

His internal alarm woke him up on time and he hurriedly prepared himself for the orn ahead. Prowl subspaced two energon cubes for the ourney before downing a third cube. the black and white mech entered the communal washracks down the hall, ensuring his finish was clear of any imperfection.

Prowl was perched upon the edge of his berth when Creator Three entered the room. His creator, seeing the mech ready, just turned and expected Prowl to follow just like he always had. The path through the house to the frontdoor was one barely used and one never used for Prowl.

Stepping out onto the Iacon streets was a shock to Prowl's systems after being kept inside for vorns. The hustle and bustle of the streets caused his sensor net to light up, streaming data at amazing speeds to his battle computer. Everything was categorised, compartmentalised. Nothing was left unanalysed as he sorted through the data.

The black and white mech transformed into his vehicle mode, on not used since he had driven the streets of Praxus. Now, he kept close to his creator as they made their way to the docking station for the transport ships. They wound through the traffic with ease, forms agile and skilled in avoiding other cybertroinians.

The two mechs arrived at the docking in a matter of breems and transformed into root mode. The station was full of mechs and femmes, many waiting to catch the same transport as Prowl. Many of the other people there would be going as tourists, to see the sights of Praxus. For Prowl it would be a major trip, one full of acquiring knowledge and training.

Creator Three wasted no words, saying nothing, as the black and white mech aquired his ticket and boarded the shuttle. Prowl didn't linger very long on thoughts of missing the life he had had in Iacon.

The black and white mech boarded the shuttle after it pulled up to the station. Withou a goodbye or looking back he left Iacon, and his old life behind. He settle down in a seat on board the transport ship and waited until he pulled into Praxus.

When the ship pulled into Praxus the only thing that could be seen was the platform at the station. This small are was packed with mechs, each with broad doorwings and elegant lines to their frames.

The hustle and bustle here was similar to that of Iacon, except for the fact that it seemed much more civilized and community minded.

Disembarking the ship was somewhat difficult for Prowl but he found that everyone looked out for doorwings, purposely avoiding the appendages if at all possible. The blacks and white mech allowed them the same courtesy, being extremely careful not to touch any one else's doorwings.

Prowl struggled through the crowd until he made it to the exit from the station, allowing him to step out onto the Praxian streets. Here everyone was on vehicle mode, zipping along on the packed roads. Each driver displayed immense skill as they wound between the vehicle around them as they struggled to go in their desired direction.

The black and white mech transformed and joined the fray, following the map of Praxus he had downloaded to his battle computer. The enforcers academy was a fair distance from the transport station, on the other side of the city to be exact.

Prowl utilized the extra sensors on his doorwings, allowing their read outs to guide him through the heaviest sections of traffic. The flow of traffic in the city was supported well by well planned roads and overpasses.

The black and white youngling made his way through both the upper and lower ends of the city. He had never seen the poorer parts of any of the places he had lived, this was an optic opener.

The streets were full of grime and regurgitated energon. The buildings here were crumbling, their once beautiful exteriors now drab and dull. The bots here had thin frames and dull optics, energon depletion obvious to anyone who saw them.

Prowl tried to ignore this area, focusing on the less hectic roads instead. His didn't work vey well because even the road infrastructure here was in a state of disrepair.

Potholes littered the road while sections of the sleek metal had crumbled away from the sides. In some places the road disappeared, leaving a dangerous gap in the road, one which had a bottom kilimetres below. Any bot who wasn't paying attention would surely fall to their offlining.

Prowl transformed and jumped across these gaps in the road, rather than risk falling down into the depths of the canyons beneath. The shadowed bots in the doorways watched his every movement, he could feel their gazes on his chassis.

The black and white mech was extremely thankful when he left the slum area behind, and came upon the academy. The exterior of the place was drab, as it would be located in the seedier area in the city. Why it hadn't been built in the better areas, Prowl had no idea.

What he didn't know was that the area he had just driven through was where he used to reside, in one of the large crumbling houses he had passed. He hadn't laid optics on the orn care, simply because he wasn't on that road. The area had come down hill over the vorns after he left, mainly due to the enforcers themselves.

Within the walls of the enforcer's academy they were teaching the new mechs to uphold the law, in a very dodgy matter. The promising enforcers weren't taught about the underground gladiator rings that were hidden below the city or the congregation of warrior mechs who met every four orns.

These things were ignored, not taught, simply because if they were taught then people outside of Praxus would see the city the way it really was. Iaconians and Tyger-Paxians knew nothing but the gleaming perfection of the city, of the crystal gardens and all their glory. To marr this image with things such as the gladiator rings was unheard of. The nobles in the city wanted it to remain a perfect city and they ignored what was going on with the corrupt enforcers and the underground rings. Some supported these shady dealings, in secret, but continued to uphold the false image of the once great city.

Of course Prowl knew none of this, of the politics the city was caught up in. He knew nothing but what he had downloaded from the public archives. These archives only held the false image of modern Praxus, the way the city used to be.

The black and white mech pulled up in front of the gates of the academy and transformed to root mode. It was hard to distinguish between the barracks and the training building. It was harder yet to define where the reception was. He located it, after consulting his map of the academy, and entered the building.

Inside the building was just as bad as it was on the outside. Stirrings of unease rose up in Prowl but he ignored them, he had been ordered here by creator and he would surely find out if he did anything wrong.

"Can I help you?" asked a fairly high voice from over by the long desk, the only feature of the room.

"I am here to become an enforcer, my designation is Prowl," Prowl responded as he spotted a blue and red femme behind the desk, doorwings held stiffly to her back.

"Ah, we were expecting you today. Your roommate is already here and lectures start tomorrow. Your roommate will fill you in when you get around to your room. Here is your key, you will be on the second floor over in the third building. Have a nice day!" the femme says as she pushed a key into Prowl's hand and turned her back to him.

He didn't bother to try and analyse her weird behavior, it was just too weird. Instead he focused on the map in his processor and left the reception, heading straight for his building.

The building he was to be rooming in was much like any of the other buildings. It's exterior was dark and drab, small windows along its side. There were a few outdoor platforms up on the higher levels, most likely for any fliers that would attend the academy.

The inside of the building was different from the main building, the hallways and doors actually had some colour. Posters were put up here and there, most on slanted angles which threw Prowl's tactical computer for a little bit. He resolved not to focus on any of the wall features as he spotted an actual framed picture hanging skew-wiff along the next part of the hallway.

The black and white mech glanced at the number on his key and looked up to the sign on the wall pointing which direction the rooms were. His room was number 213, to the left if the sign was correct.

As he walked the hallways Prowl passed a few mechs, none looking particularly happy, or friendly for that matter. It bothered Prowl that everyone in this building seemed to have very drab colours and extremely strong chassis.

He had thought, not unrightly, that most of the bots training to be enforcers would have slimmer frames, more like his. However all of these frames seemed to be built for battle, harsh battle at that. Although Prowl knew he could stand up against immense pain he was unsure on how well he would stand up against any of these mechs in a fight.

The black and white mech found his room with relative ease, the door to the room adorned with yet another poster, hanging diagonally. The door was slow to open as he pushed against it, the hinge half jammed by rust. The hinges themselves squeaked with the effort of allowing the door to swing open.

The inside of the room was better lit than any of the hallways had been but the walls were just as dull. The colour grey seemed to be the in colour here, if the way the place was decorated was any indicator. The room held two berths, pressed up against the opposite sides of the room. Straight in front of the door was a small window, set up quite high in the wall.

Upon one of the berths, the one to the right, a mech was sprawled. Doorwings sat upon his back, waving lightly as the mech listened to music internally. The mech's chassis was red, blue and white while his doorwings were blue and white. From the side Prowl could just make out the outline of a chevron, a yellow one. The mech didn't even lift his helm as Prowl entered the room and sat himself down on one of the berths.

Just as Prowl was about to introduce himself to the mech across from him, the mech in question abruptly sat up and turned to face him.

"I don't particularly care who you are or where you came from. The only thing that matters to me is that you work well in our team and don't make the rest of us fail. I've heard rumours that you've got a battle computer and you think you're all high and mighty because you have one. Here is a reality check, almost everyone here has a battle computer and those that don't won't need it in their job," the mech said, not even introducing himself. "Work well in my team and there won't be any issues, if you don't work well and jeopardize the rest of us then expect to be offlined, painfully."

Prowl was somewhat stunned by the miniature rant, especially considering he still didn't know this mech's name, or what was going to go on in the academy. The mech looked at him expectantly until he realized he was meant to talk.

"Your assumption about my battle computer is correct although I do not think of myself as "high and mighty" as you put it. My designation is Prowl if you would like to know. May I inquire as to what your designation is?" Prowl asked, not really responding to what the mech in front of him had said.

The blue, white and red doorwinger gave him a weird look before answering. "I'm Smokescreen, training to become a tactician and psychiatrist; I'm the leader of the team you will be in."

"It is very nice to meet you Smokescreen; I am also training to become a tactician. When will I meet the rest of our team? Also, what do you mean I have the ability to make the whole team fail?" Prowl asked as he tried to inconspicuously settle into a more comfortable sitting position.

"We can go meet the rest of the team as soon as you are settled in here. As for how you could make our team fail, the moment anyone does something wrong here the team they are part of gets punished as well as themselves. You step foot over the boundaries and we could all end up in deep slag, worse, if it's really bad we could end up getting failed in our classes therefore failing the academy. No one gets a second chance here and all of us want to be enforcers," Smokescreen snarled, whether from the unfair rules or the fact that this newcomer could take down their team, Prowl had no idea.

"I do not have much to do in order to settle in here. We can leave immediately if you wish," Prowl replied, choosing to ignore the hostility in Smokescreen's voice.

"You don't have anything? Anything at all? Now I get why everyone was going on about you being really up tight, you musn't ever relax. Admittedly that might be good for the team…" Smokescreen said, extremely surprised.

"Well, I have some energon cubes in my subspace but other than that I have nothing. Where will we be meeting the team?" Prowl questioned as he tried to figure out why this mech was so surprised to hear he had no possessions with him.

"We can go down to the recroom now, have you been there yet?" Smokescreen asked as he jumped off his berth and led the way out of the room.

"No, I have yet to go to the recreation room as I thought it would be better to familiarize myself with our room and introduce myself to you," Prowl replied as they went down to the first floor.

"You would..."Smokescreen muttered.

The recroom when they got there was full of door winged mechs, most with dark colour schemes. The mechs were sorted in to groups, each in a different part of the room. Prowl figured that they must have been the different teams at the academy.

Smokescreen led him over to a group towards the back of the room, close to the energon dispensers. Each of the mechs standing there were tall, much taller than Prowl. Their chassis were broad and their door wings held high over their helms. The sound of their voices carried through the room well, each having a low voice.

Both of the mechs got energon cubes as they joined the small group of mechs near the dispensers. The conversation they were involved in halted suddenly when Prowl joined the group. Cool stares were shot towards the black and white mech. It was at that point in time that Prowl noticed that he was the focus of the entire room.

Although not shy, Prowl was by no means a "bot" person. Being the center of attention didn't suit him well, actually it suited him terribly. His battle computer started to run calculations such as what the best route out of the room would be if everyone attacked him. The idea of them all attacking him didn't seem so farfetched with the way each bot was looking at the black and white mech.

Smokescreen glared at the other bots around the room before focusing his attention on his own team. The blue, red and white mech didn't get the team to stop staring, instead he just waited until they would all introduce themselves, or pick on the new mech.

"He doesn't look like much Smokey," the largest bot said, energon cube in hand as he finally stopped staring at Prowl.

"I agree with Inertier, I don't think he's going to be an asset to the team," another mech said, the comment making Prowl bristle.

"I can not see why I would not be an asset to this team. I always do my best at everything and I have already been trained to an acceptable level by my creator in tactical planning and close combat," Prowl put in, disconcerted by how much of the conversation was going on around him but without any care for him being there.

"None of that matters here, the only thing matters is that you perform to the standards required by the teachers here. None of us give a slag what you've done with your creator, what matters is now," the mech called Inertier replied.

"Back off a little you guys, he's not going to be quite as bad as we thought. Turns out he has a battle computer but he isn't as high and mighty as the rumours said. He's just a little uptight is all, especially with the lingo," Smokescreen interrupted.

"I hope you're right Smokescreen. What do you reckon about his performance in our team," the mech next to Inertia asked.

"He should be fine, just a little difficult to converse with but he'll do okay," Smokescreen replied as he downed his cube in three easy gulps.

Prowl continued to stand on the outskirts of the group after his outburst. It continued to annoy him how the rest of the bots there were speaking as if he wasn't there. Already he was starting to feel out of the group here, especially on the more social level. His annoyance at the group was starting to form, Smokescreen's more than the other's.

The black and white mech sipped his cube slowly, doorwings to the rest of the room. His vulnerability from this position disconcerted him, his back open for an attack from any bot in the room. The sensor nets along Prowl's doorwings continuously collected data and fed it into his battle computer, not missing any movement from within the recreation room.

The conversation continued around Prowl as he stood there, observing every interaction within the group. He never got a chance to add anything else to the proceedings although the overall conclusion to the discussion wasn't overly bad. The black and white mech was glad to be able to leave the recroom and return to his recharge room, sans Smokescreen. The blue, red and white doorwinger had decided to continue talking to other bots in the recreation room, leaving Prowl to do as he wished.

It was with relief that the black and white doorwinger returned to his room and settled down to recharge. He could tell that the experience ahead of him wouldn't be overly pleasant but it would be a far cry from getting trained by Creator Three. In an odd way Prowl was looking forward to the next few vorns, if only for the fact that he would be away from his creator and the engineers.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Did you likenot like? Constructive criticism welcome. Please review!


	10. New Team

Hey Everyone! This is chapter ten, yes, chapter ten. I'm getting an amazing amount done on this story and I'm very, extremely proud of it. The number of reviews is sad comparing to how many I know are visiting the story. I might start implementing a plan where I update if I get two reviews...although it never seems to work for me as I'm always too eager to post. :D Moving on to some more interesting things in this chapter. Constructive criticism is welcome, always. Enjoy the chapter and remember, it's unbeta-ed. If you would like to beta, drop me a pm or review.

Thankyou to Sideslip who dropped in a review and of course thanks to everyone else who has submitted a review or put this story on their favourites/alerts lists.

* * *

><p>The next few vorns at the academy passed quickly despite the slow orns. Prowl never did let down his team like the others had suspected he would. His battle computer created problems for him at times, usually when the other bots in his team decided to talk about something totally illogical. At these times he would have to find a place to let his battle computer to go on the fritz, way away from his team mates and instructors at the academy. He was under no disillusion that his battle computer's little episode wouldn't get him a punishment for his team. In this manner he had to keep every fritz to himself.<p>

It had been particularly hard when he had to take the psychology classes. Everything to do with psychology was illogical, especially considering it was to do with emotions. How Smokescreen managed it with his battle computer Prowl had no idea, only that his fellow Praxian coped far better than he did.

For short amounts of time the black and white mech would miss his creator or SparkSoul but the moments never lasted long. He was much too busy to linger, especially because he not only had to do his work but also the work Smokescreen didn't get finished.

Prowl ended up getting more and more work from the other bots in his team as the vorns went on. The mechs would go out and party more often than not, ignoring all of their set homework. In the end they wouldn't be able to finish it on time and to avoid punishment Prowl would have to complete it.

The upside to the academy had been that the training sessions hadn't been anywhere near as bad as they had been with Creator. The best thing was that there was medical help, albeit dodgy medical help, if someone got injured. In this manner the black and white mech found himself consuming less energon than he had back in Iacon.

By his last vorn in the academy Prowl was sick of it, and his teammates. The black and white mech was glad that he was getting out of there soon, to go and join the enforcer's ranks. He had already been guaranteed a place as a tactical officer due to his upgraded battle computer.

At some point during their time at the academy the other mechs and femmes in the same stage of training as Prowl had to admit his battle computer was much more advanced than theirs. So much for Smokescreen's declaration that they all had similar battle computers.

The orn finally came when Prowl and his teammates were released from the academy and put into the enforcer units. The black and white mech was thankful that he hadn't been placed with anyone from his team, he knew he wouldn't cope if that had happened. Instead he was placed in a fairly new team, just formed. His team consisted of only three mechs, himself, a mech called Barricade and a femme called Ashdancer.

The team was formed as a special strike force, designed to investigate issues to do with the crimes in the lower income areas of the city , especially the slums. The drug lords and gladiators did their business in this area of the city, well out of sight of the usual enforcers.

The team had been set up under the noses of the few mechs who were aligned with the gladiators and the rings. Of course this meant that there wouldn't be as much funding or back up if they needed it.

Although, seeing as how this was a known variable Prowl was confident he would be able to plan around these issues. Despite this the plans would be very dependent on his new team and their skills.

The rumour around the academy had been that there were bots coming in from Iacon to join the enforcers however Prowl was unsure if that was the bots coming into his team or other bots going into the other units.

Other rumours had said that there was a doorwinger coming, from Iacon, with amazing sleuthing ability and a penchant for shady dealings. The black and white doorwinger was unsure as to whether he should be worried or just let it pass. His battle computer told him it was illogical to think it would be bad so he just left well enough alone and decided to reevaluate when he met the team.

The building that would be used as his team's base was as dingy, if not dingier than the academy buildings. The base was located fairly close to the slums, in one of the in between neighborhoods.

Nothing could be heard save for the hum of working systems as Prowl entered the building. The floor was covered in dust and the lights flickered at random intervals. The first room the doorwinger entered was a reception area, the one desk within the room bare of anything and falling apart.

Continuing down the hallway Prowl came upon three offices, each with doors hanging wide open. Two of the doors were only just clinging to their hinges, sure to fall down if too much pressure was applied to them. Each of the offices was devoid of anything, including chairs.

At the very end of the hallway the Praxian found an open plan room. To one side was a bank of highly sophisticated computers while the other side of the room was set up as a recreational area. This room had the only furniture out of the whole building in it, and the only occupant.

Sprawled across one of the couches was a mech with a black and white frame, similar to Prowl's own chassis. This unknown mech had to be Barricade, the second team member. His chassis was heavy set, thick armour protecting his chest and legs. The doorwings perched upon Baricade's back had a larger span than Prowl's doorwings.

As Prowl stepped further into the room Barricade spoke. "So you are the tactician of the team. I was wondering when you would get here."

The mech's head turned as he spoke, revealing his four optics. The sight of them unnerved Prowl slightly although he would never admit it.

"Yes, my designation is Prowl. I did not know that you wished for me to be here earlier than the set time. Have you met Ashdancer yet?" Prowl responded, asking a question of his own.

"Ashdancer just stopped by one of the shops in the uptown district, she should be here soon. I travelled with Ash to Praxus as we are both from Iacon. I always make it a point to get somewhere early and prefer it when other's do too. Of course you couldn't have known this as you've only just met me," Barricade responded as he looked at Prowl, subtly assessing his chassis.

"Hey Barricade, oh and you must be Prowl," trilled a high voice as a whirl of grey and white entered the room, moving at high speeds. "I'm so sorry I'm late but I got some energon for us to have mid-orn."

"It is quite all right Ashdancer, and you are correct in assuming I am Prowl. I only just arrived myself so you are not too late," Prowl said as he watched the femme all but twirl through the room on light pedes.

"Oh that's good, I didn't want to be too late, that would be just rude. Have any of you seen this place? I didn't have time because I just got here and I was in such a rush to make sure I wasn't late," Ashdancer asked, not leaving much time for response.

"I had a brief look at each of the rooms. It seems as though there isn't much here in the way of furniture in the other rooms. This seems to be the only area properly set up," Prowl replied as Ashdancer took a break from talking.

"I checked out the place before either of you got here. This room is equipped with everything we'll need. We've got a below ground base in case we need it, the entrance is under the couch I'm currently sitting on. Despite the lack of furniture and run down look of the place there is a good security system set up," Barricade said as he settled more comfortably into the couch.

"Do either of you know when we will be given our first mission to accomplish? I haven't heard anything since being told to meet here," Prowl said as he walked over to one of the unused couches and sat himself down, doorwings drawn close to his body and chassis held stiffly.

"I haven't heard anything but I assume they want us to get to know eachother or something before we go out to tackle any tasks. I'm sure the head of the department will be here soon enough to check we're settled in or something," Barricade said, lazily flicking his doorwings backwards and forwards.

"Well, I'm just much too hyped to sit still, I'm going to take a look around the place, won't take me long but it will help me burn off some energy. I'm always so energetic after travelling…" Ashdancer said, her voice trailing off as she darted out of the room, never able to keep still.

Prowl took the moment of silence to collect his thoughts about his new team. The black and white doorwinger thought that he would get along with this team better than his team back at the academy. Already Barricade didn't seem like such a bad mech and didn't grate on his nerves as much as Smokescreen did. Ashdancer, well she might end up being slightly annoying. Her peppy attitude and fast talking was starting to wear Prowl down. The high pitch of her voice was annoying Prowl's audio receivers. The black and white mech decided to recalibrate his audio receivers when he got off duty next.

"So you were brought up here in Praxus? Doesn't seem like such a great place to live from what I've seen of it so far. Everyone always talks about the beauty of Praxus and it's crystal gardens but I don't think they've seen the poorer areas of the city," Barricade commented, obviously trying to start up a conversation.

"I was brought online in this city however I stayed in Iacon for most of my youngling hood. I came to the enforcer academy here and just graduated. I never saw the slums when I was younger, I was in the well to do suburbs. I suppose visitors only see what the occupants of the citty want them to see, such as the cities beauty. What about yourself, Barricade, where were you brought up?" Prowl asked, somewhat curious as to Barricade's back round. Of course this information could be useful in the future when planning anything for the team to do.

"I was brought up in Kaon, on the other side of Cybertron. I went to the Iacon academy and studied to become an enforcer there. This is my second time here in the city of Praxus," Barricade answered, not giving Prowl too much information about himself.

The information sounded true though, the inflection of emotion in the words to do with Kaon displayed much. Prowl recognized the emotion in the words but didn't try to analyse it, undoubtedly his battle computer would go on the fritz. The revelation that this mech was quite emotional threw the black and white mech, it would be difficult to keep his battle computer from frying during work. Worse, it would be hard to keep the glitch hidden from his new teammates. It had been hard enough with his team at the academy where none of the mechs really paid close attention to him or even noticed his existence. Here it would be noticed if anything went wrong with his battle computer and undoubtedly this Barricade would think of him as weak or pathetic.

A silent resolve was made as they sat there, Prowl would try his absolute hardest to keep the secret hidden. If Ashdancer or Barricade found out about it he would have to leave, failing that he may have to kill them. The thought alarmed the black and white mech but he pushed his personal morals, long buried, to the back of his processor. He would have to do worse things if his Creator had anything to do with it.

"What are you thinking so hard about there, Prowl?" Barricade asked as he noticed that the black and white mech across from him wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. The question garnered no response so Barricade left his fellow black and white alone.

Inside his processor Barricade was in a whirl. Mainly because he wasn't actually the mech called Barricade, he was Jazz. The sight of his youngling friend had rocked him to the core. Jazz had thought Prowl to be offline or still in Praxus. To see his friend now in his adult frame and with such an advanced battle computer through him for his own loop.

He had heard the rumours that there was a mech in Praxus with a battle computer much more advanced than any other one currently in use. Jazz hadn't thought much of it until he heard a description of the mech. Of course, there were many mechs out there with a black and white frame as well as doorwings however the mannerisms the mech was said to have sounded exactly like Prowl's.

Some research had presented him with a picture of the mech in question, undoubtedly his youngling friend from the orn care. The description of the mech had given him more information than he had ever known about Prowl. From there he had drawn conclusions, Prowl must have had a battle computer back at the orn care and his creator had been preparing him to be an enforcer.

Prowl's description of where he had moved had astonished Jazz. To think his friend had been in the same city as him for vorns. Jazz had moved to the academy as soon as he had finished the orn care, the Iacon Academy.

Of course he couldn't tell Prowl who he actually was, not while he was in his disguise. There was no way to break his cover and still get the marks from his class. Instead of studying to become an enforcer (like his cover Barricade) he was studying to go into special ops. This was one of his final assessment pieces, if he blew his cover he wouldn't be able to graduate. Jazz had waited much too long to graduate to blow it now.

However he really wanted to get to know Prowl, as he was now. Jazz figured it wouldn't hurt his cover too much to get close to Prowl. Of course he would have to wait for the right time which would take quite a while if Prowl was still like he was as a youngling.

A sound from the front of the building brought Barricade out of his thoughts. Getting up quickly he spared a glance for Prowl, who was still deep in his thoughts. The movement of the larger frame not disturbing the small black and white mech.

Barricade drew a short energon dagger as he moved down the hallway, still not spotting anything which could have made the noise. His sensors were on high alert as he stealthily moved forwards. His doorwings gathered every bit of data they could, not leaving anything as "unuseful" information.

When he reached the reception area it was devoid of anything, except it's large desk. The front door to the building hung open, as though it had been left ajar by someone leaving , or coming, in a hurry.

The slightest of movements was detected by Barricade's doorwings as he peered around the doorway. To the right of the building was a shadow, an outline of a mech. The shadow stayed stationary as the black and white mech moved slowly towards the corner, energon dagger held in preparation before his chassis.

Upon reaching the corner of the building the large doorwinger stopped for a few seconds, before leaping around the corner, prepared to take the unknown bot down.

Barricade swung his arm wide, grabbing hold of the mech who had started to flee. Pressing the energon dagger to the gold mech's main energon line he held him close.

"What are you doing here?" Barricade snarled, keeping the mech facing away from him.

"I…I was just coming this way to try to find some energon. I didn't mean to trespass on your turf or anything…it was a mistake, I swear to Primus," the mech said, trembling slightly.

It was then that Barricade noticed that it wasn't a chassis of a fully grown mech, instead the chassis of a youngling. The armour the frame held was thick and heavy, making the shadow appear to be one of a mech. The bright coat of paint was scratched in numerous places and in other places the metal was completely devoid of colour. The yellow youngling's shoulder joint sparked from time to time, the wires inside obviously damaged.

Barricade's grip loosened for just a second as he noticed that the bot he was holding was a youngling and the youngling in question took advantage immediately. Lashing out the yellow coloured mechling forcibly got himself out of the black and white mech's grip. Twirling around he entered into a fighting stance, one suited to the gladiator pits. Optics blazing the youngling stood ready to battle with Barricade.

The look in the youngling's optics was one which told a story of battle and survival. It also gave Barricade a hint as to what age he was exactly. It wouldn't be long before this youngling would be in his adult frame, his attitude giving his maturity away.

However his actions were that of someone frightened, not for themselves but for someone else. A bonded? Barricade didn't think so, the mechling didn't seem quite like the early bonding type. A sibling? Much more likely.

Barricade let his servo clenched around the energon dagger drop to his side, signifying his wish not to fight. The youngling didn't move though, still wary of the large mech who was quite obviously armed.

"I'm sorry for jumping you like that, I only just got to the building and haven't really checked the perimeter yet. I heard you creeping up to the building and just jumped to conclusions," Barricade said, trying to calm the youngling slightly, if only to get information out of him.

His true mission wasn't to play goody-goody with the enforcers; it was to uncover secrets within the gladiator rings. This youngling may be the first link to the rings Barricade had come across and he wasn't going to waste an opportunity.

"Ok, I'll just be going then," the youngling said as he lowered his servos and started walking backwards, optics still fixed on the larger frame.

"Wait! Didn't you need energon?" Barricade asked, wanting to at least get the youngling's name.

"Yeah," the yellow youngling answered, halting his backward motion.

Pulling two cubes of energon from his subspace Barricade offered them to the youngling.

Darting forwards the youngling snatched the two energon cubes out of the black and white mech's servos, giving him a curious look when he saw that there were two.

"Thanks, I guess. Why did you give me two cubes?"

"You seemed to have someone else you were worried about when you turned to face me. As for the thanks, it would be much more beneficial for me to be given a contact in the gladiator rings," at the look of horror on the young mech's face Barricade continued on, "just think about it for a bit, you can always find me here if you decide to help me."

The yellow youngling didn't reply as he turned and fled from the building. Barricade stood there silently for a few moments, looking into the direction where the young mech had disappeared to. Jazz filed away the direction in mind, he case he needed to find the youngling again. It wouldn't prove too challenging to locate the youngling, not if he lived around the new enforcer's building.

Barricade turned around the corner in order to make his way back inside only to find Prowl standing at the open doorway to the building. The tactician's doorwings were held stiffly, even more stiffly than they had been when he was inside.

The smaller black and white mech's optics narrowed as he spotted Barricade coming around the corner towards him.

"I did not see you leave the room. Was there an issue?" Prowl asked, his voice cool and almost devoid of any emotion. However, just under the surface of the voice a small amount of self-annoyance could be heard.

"I tried to tell you before I left the room but you were too deep in thought. I detected a prescence near the building and decided to check it out. Turns out it was only a curious youngling looking for some energon," Barricade replied, not at all flustered by the cool tone his team mate used with him.

"I apologise for being so deep in thought. I assume you dealt with the youngling appropriately? We should return inside, Ashdancer has finally had a look at our new headquarters," Prowl said as he turned and walked through the doorway, expecting Barricade to follow, the manner reminiscent of Creator Three.

The larger black and white mech followed Prowl inside to reconvene with the whole team, wondering what had changed to make his friend even colder and more detached than he had been as a youngling. It would be just one of the many pieces of information he would have to pry out of the tactician once they became friends again.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading this chapter. What did you like or not like? Were my talking scenes ok? Did it flow ok?<p> 


	11. First Strike

Hey Everyone! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, keep it up! :D Here is the next chapter and I apologise for it being a bit short. This just seemed like the best way to configure the chapter (otherwise it would have been 7k and I wouldn't have more stuff to post for you all). You will be glad to know that I'm at least two chapters ahead of what I'm posting (first time ever)! I hope that you like this chapter, the next is just sitting on my computer waiting for a couple of reviews to pop up and then I can post it. :D I'm still looking for a beta reader so if you would like to fill the position just pm me or add it into your review. Thanks to everyone who is reading this story, has added this story to their alerts/favourites list or who has reviewed. Enjoy your reading!

* * *

><p>A soft gust of wind played over Prowl's doorwings, sensors already on high alert storing everything they received. The black and white's battle computer was running the fastest it ever had. This was his first task as an enforcer and he sure as pit wasn't going to stuff it up simply because he hadn't been paying enough attention to his sensors.<p>

Already he could feel and ache forming in his processor, most likely from too much data. It had been happening more and more lately. The more frequently he used his battle computer to extrapolate data the worse his frequent processor aches became. Obviously there was something seriously wrong with his battle computer and the connection between it and his processor.

It wouldn't have worried him so much if he didn't have to interact so closely or so often with his team mates. Already there had been to many close calls with this battle computer going on the fritz. Barricade had decided that Prowl would make a good friend and subsequently started spending more and more time around him. The mech's persistence reminded him of Jazz and his persistence when they had been younglings.

However this new obsession of the larger black and white mech's was making it hard to keep his "condition" secret from his new team. Barricade was half the reason his battle computer went on the fritz anyway. The mech had a penchant for doing the illogical or mixing emotions into any conversation and Ashdancer wasn't much better.

Prowl was thankful he didn't have to spend half as much time with the sole femme team member. She seemed to have an obsession with down town Praxus and so very rarely came back to their headquarters. To him it wasn't really a loss, not with how annoying her fast talking was or the high pitch to her vocaliser.

When she was at base the three took the time to spar and Prowl had to grudgingly admit she was at least good at that. The femme mightn't have been good at anything else but she would at least be an asset in a battle.

Prowl filed away every detail he could about his new team members, hoping that the data would eventually be to his advantage if he had to draw up battle plans, or more rightly, tactical plans to take over different buildings held by the war lords in the area.

Eventually the data did help Prowl, in setting this exact scenario up. The superiors at the Praxus headquarters had found one of the drug lords to be an issue and had immediately told the team to investigate. It hadn't taken the small black and white mech to draw up the plans with the highest success rate possible. It had however, been extremely trying when Barricade had been trying to read his data pad from over his shoulder.

The lack of privacy was simply annoying for Prowl. He could deal with it now, what, after all the time in the enforcer academy he would have had to adapt. This didn't mean the black and white mech had to like it, truth be told he much would have preferred just holing up the room designated as an office and working through everything on his own.

This wouldn't work for the simple fact none of the offices had any furniture or wall sockets for him to plug a portable computer into. The only technology capable of simulating his battle plans, on a larger scale than his battle computer could, was the computers in the common area at the back of the building.

Prowl resigned himself to working there, Barricade always by his side. Sometimes the larger mech would chatter his ear off and other times just sit back with a data pad of his own. Of course it was hard for Prowl to figure out just what exactly it was Barricade was doing with the data pad but so long as it kept him out of Prowl's way he didn't particularly care.

The breeze continued to play over his doorwings, reminding Prowl of where he was. Barricade was on the other side of the alley way as they crept towards the hideout of the current drug lord they were trying to bring down.

Ashdancer was creeping up on the alleyway adjacent to theirs. The one running parallel to the one they were on. She would creep up on the back of the building, block the escape.

Prowl and Barricade crept up to the front door, ready to break in and take down anyone inside. Their order had been to kill everyone, leave no one online. The orders played on his consciousness but he had learned to ignore it.

Barricade knocked the door in and burst inside, Prowl right behind him. Their weapons were drawn, held readily within their servos. They were met with no resistance as they entered the premises.

The room the two burst into was empty, devoid of anything except for some empty energon cubes which had been lazily discarded. Two chairs were pushed back from the table, not tucked in by their previous occupants.

Moving to the next doorway the mech's stood either side of it. From within this next room they could hear voices, ones kept low. The bots there sounded lazy or tired. Gesturing with his digits Barricade prepared to go around the corner, weapon at the ready.

Prowl assumed a similar stance, prepared for the battle ahead. The drug lords would undoubtedly try to shoot them, take them down. Drawing his doorwings close to his body he made sure that every sensor was alive, ready to receive data should need be.

The two mech's leapt around in unison, bursting in on the relaxing bots there. The three mechs within the room had no time to draw their own weapons as Prowl darted forward to take the first one out. His energon blade, pulled from subspace, plunging through the circuitry in his neck.

Barricade similarly took out another mech, his shorter energon dagger slashing through the unfortunate mech's helm, dragging out assorted wires and pieces of processor with it. Barricade was slightly faster than Prowl, getting to the last occupant of the room before him, well before him.

Prowl didn't waste time waiting for Barricade, instead he passed through the room and into the back corridor. None of the mech's within the previous room were the drug lord they were looking for, he must be somewhere further into the building.

The smaller black and white mech felt, rather than heard, Ashdancer come through the back door to the building. The minute soundwaves weren't caught by his audio receivers, instead they were caught by his doorwings, turning it into a motion to be detected. Paying the femme no mind Prowl continued forward, up the stair case in front of him.

The stairs didn't creak and Prowl was thankful for it. His battle computer was running full speed, churning through the meager amount of energon he had consumed that orn. Weapon held ever ready he reached the top of the stair case and was immediately fired upon.

Darting to the side he took cover by some sort of desk, using his doorwings to locate where the source of the fire power was from. Drawing his own gun from subspace he readied it for battle, the deadly weapon already aligned with his systems.

Rolling out from behind his cover Prowl shot in the direction the previous energon bullets had come from. He faintly heard the sound of a mech crying out in agony as he flung himself towards the wall and the shelter it offered. Moving forwards paying caution no mind he went straight for the doorway the fallen mech had been guarding.

Flying through the doorway the black and white mech immediately started firing upon the occupants of the room. He made sure to target the mech right behind the desk, the one who was the drug lord. The second that particular mech was offline Prowl turned his attention to the others in the room

He felt the sting of an energon bullet as it pierced the armour in his side. The black and white mech paid it no heed as he continued to fire on the opposing mechs. More bullets were fired in his direction, one colliding with his doorwings.

None of it caused him too much pain, Prowl was just too used to ignoring some things. His creator had done his job well, the youngling turned mech now didn't stop for anything so trivial as bodily harm.

The black and white mech didn't even notice when his team mates joined him in the office, both backing up his fire power. The remaining bots in the room fell easily under the combingation of three deadly weapons. It wasn't until he was entirely sure that the bots were offline that he turned to Ashdancer and Barricade.

Ashdancer's optics held a look of revulsion, whether at the sight of the offline mechs or of the deeds she had done Prowl couldn't be sure. The femme had not one scratch upon her frame, paint as pristine as it had been when they had left the building earlier.

Barricade had nearly escaped unscathed as well. Small, trivial scratches marred his frame but it was nothing to be worried about. Said mech however, was extremely worried about Prowl and his injuries.

Energon now ran freely down the small black and white frame, originating from the wounds in his doorwings and chassis. Scorch marks stood out like a beacon against the white of the mech's frame, Barricade's optics drawn to them like a moth to light.

"The drug lord has successfully been taken out. Our mission has been accomplished," Prowl said as he subspaced his acid pellet rifle.

"I cleared all of the hallways, there is no one left online," Ashdancer said, subspacing her own weapon.

"We should get out of here, before a contact of the drug lord's shows up with all of his cronies," Barricade said, secretly just wanting to get Prowl out of the building and to some sort of medical care.

"The back doorway would be our best bet of getting out of here. Let's get moving," Ashdancer said, already leaving the room.

Both of the black and white mechs followed straight after her, energon blades still in servos. The hallways were littered with the chassis' of the dead mechs, energon running in small rivers towards the stairs.

The building was left in the wake of the three team members as they gunned their engines and headed for their headquarters. The three bots split up on their way back to ensure no one found their hideout.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading. Review please?<p> 


	12. Grumpy Medic and a Little Relaxation

Hey Everyone! Here is my longest chapter yet, unbetaed and with many flaws. You will all be glad to know that I'm up to 44000 words at the moment so I'm quite far ahead of you readers. This of course, means regular updates with none of my usual "I am no where near finishing the next chapter, damn school." I only got one review for the last chapter and the next chapter won't be posted unless I get two...a measly two. Pretty easy. All you have to do is click the button and then say "Update!" or "Like the story!" or "This needs a beta," etc. Don't really mind what you say and constructive criticism is welcome. If you are a beta reading this let me know if you would like to beta read this story as I'm on the look out for a beta.

I know there are a lot of your reading this and a great big thanks to all of you have reviewed, alerted or favourited this story. Virtual high grade to the first person to review this chapter.

* * *

><p>Barricade was the first to arrive back at the headquarters, heading straight inside to get a cube of energon for Prowl when he got back. Ashdancer was the next to arrive, a whirlwind of grey and white dashing through the dull building. This left Prowl to arrive last, energon still seeping from his wounds.<p>

The smaller black and white mech didn't really notice his frame or the damage, too caught up in the fact that he needed to contact command and tell them that they had completed their mission. He ignored the energon cube shoved into his hands by a worried Barricade and headed straight for the computer consol.

Black and white doorwings were held close to his body, as stiff as they always were. Ashdancer made some sort of pained noise in the back of the throat as Prowl leaned back in the seat, the wound upon his doorwing coming into full contact with the chair.

It didn't take Prowl long to send out the message to command and he felt immediately relieved once he did. The sensor nets along his chassis had long since become immune to pain, or at least they didn't register anything in his processor. Undoubtedly the battle computer would be sorting through any data from the nets, storing it all away in a file to sort through later.

The black and white mech's battle computer was still running fast and hot, churning straight through the small amount of energon he had left in his system. It was out of necessity that he brought the long forgotten cube to his mouth and took a long draught from it.

"Prowl, you need medical attention. You've sent the message to command so now we need to go find a medic, the wounds need attention," Barricade reasoned, inanely worried for his smaller counterpart.

"I have survived worse without medical attention. I shall be fine," Prowl replied, already opening the new orders that had been sent through.

"Slag it Prowl, you're going to go and see a medic even if I have to drag you there," Barricade snarled as he stepped forward to lift the smaller black and white mech out of his current seat.

"I have no need for a medic, now if you will excuse me I have more tactical plans to draw up," Prowl said, voice icy as he continued to focus on the computer.

"You are going to see a medic and that's final. I'll not have you continue your work here while you are injured," Barricade said sternly as he wrapped his arms around Prowl and lifted him straight out of his seat.

Ashdancer stood to the side of the room, an amused expression playing on her lip plates. She could see the emotions that Barricade was hiding, even if Prowl couldn't. The larger black and white mech could be so obvious, if you knew that he was really Jazz.

Even as Ashdancer thought of the emotions that Barricade was displaying, Prowl seemed to pick up on them. The black and white mech's optics widened as he looked up at his larger counterpart. His doorwings stopped any subtle movement that they may have been displaying, now held absolutely still. His whole chassis seemed to freeze, suspended in time.

Prowl's battle computer was racing, desperately trying to make sense of the emotion he could see in Barricade's optics. He hadn't thought that the larger mech had held any emotion for him but now he was faced with the brunt of it. His battle computer, already strained started to lock up. Prowl desperately tried to get his battle computer under control but it just didn't want to cooperate.

Barricade felt the mech in his arms stiffen and saw the way his optics went wide. A small gasp escaped from his vocaliser as the smaller frame started to tremble and shake. The movement started subtly at first but soon grew until the mech in his arms was keening and shaking, the sound of his torment filling the room.

The larger mech immediately set Prowl down on a couch, held him tight. Worry coursed through his systems, worry for his best friend from the orn care. The scenario was too similar to the one at the orn care, the orn that he thought Prowl had fallen offline.

Prowl's battle computer was fighting with him, trying to tear apart his processor and causing immense pains within his spark. Emotion and logic warred within him, the powerful tactical asset winning out over his spark. The backlash from the conquest hit directly into his spark, feeling as if an energon dagger had slashed straight through it.

His chassis shook, just like it always did. He couldn't hear his own keens as the agony within his spark increased. Somewhere, on the edge of his consciousness he could feel the touch of someone's servo running along his chevron and arms wrapped tightly around his frame.

Barricade just held Prowl, he couldn't think of anything else to do. His processor was frozen, the sound of his friend's pain causing him immense grief. Barricade didn't want this to be his fault; he didn't want this to happen again. His memories from the orn care were trying to come to the forward part of his processor but he didn't allow it, it was time to focus on the mech in his arms.

Prowl's processor was clouded; he couldn't really tell what was going on around him. He could feel the arms, the servo along his chevron but nothing else. His vocaliser felt raw and overused but he couldn't hear anything within the room. It was like any other battle computer fritz, except this time someone had seen him.

The thought jerked Prowl out of the haze he had been suspended in. His optics widened in alarm as he saw that it was Barricade holding him tightly. Ashdancer was nowhere to be seen, the smaller black and white mech could only hope that she hadn't gone to find a medic.

Jerking himself out of the grip of the larger black and white mech, Prowl all but sprinted to the other side of the room to press up against the wall. His optics focused on Barricade, the shocked and worried expression on his face.

"Prowl…are you ok?" Barricade asked, voice wavering.

"I…I am fine," Prowl answered, unsure as to what kind of reply the other mech wanted.

"Primus Prowl, you scared me. I…I care for you and it just scared me so much to see you in that much pain," Barricade answered, cursing himself for sounding so worried and weak.

"I am fine, my battle computer just has a few issues," Prowl said as he returned to the computers, studiously ignoring the emotion in Barricade's voice, he didn't want his battle computer to fritz again.

"Just a few issues? That wasn't a few issues, that was one great, gigantic issue!" Barricade yelled, his pent up emotions finding a less than perfect escape.

"Please keep your voice down, the noise is not particularly helping my processor," Prowl said, voice as emotionless as it could ever be.

"Oh look, now you've gone and withdrawn again. Why don't you just tell me what the real issue is with your battle computer, it's obviously been an issue for a while if you recovered so quickly," Barricade growled, stalking over to the energon dispenser to get the tactician another cube.

Before Prowl could answer, the front door to the building swung open with a resounding clang. Heavy pedesteps rushed towards the common room, lighter ones keeping pace with the heavy ones.

A red and white mech burst into the room, wrench in servo, optics immediately narrowing in on Prowl and his injuries. The wrench was thrown with force, straight towards Prowl's head and made contact with a satisfying thud.

"You young mech, get yourself on that couch over there so I can take a look at you," the red and white mech said, "and before you even think of protesting you are going to do it because I said so."

Prowl didn't respond as he got up and walked over to the couch he had only recently vacated. He sat himself down carefully, making sure not to jolt any part of his chassis. The medic would expect him to be in pain, even though he wasn't. Prowl knew how to pretend for a medic, or engineer, as he had to do it frequently at the enforcer's academy.

"What have you done to yourself you stupid mech? You should have gone straight to a medical facility with those wounds!" the red and white mech snarled as he stalked forward, similar to a predator hunting its prey.

"I was required to enter a report on the mission, it took precedence over my own welfare," Prowl responded, voice cool and calm.

"Nothing comes before your own welfare you slagheap!" A second wrench collided with Prowl's helm.

"I would appreciate it if you would stop throwing objects at my helm, it is already sore enough."

"I don't see why it should hurt you frag head, it's the only part of your chassis not damaged!" the medic yelled before turning to Barricade, "And you young mech should know better than to let him come back here. Ashdancer said you were going to bring him in and I have no idea why you didn't!"

"Look, Ratchet, I didn't bring him in because he suddenly started keening and shaking. Apparently his battle computer was giving his some trouble," Barricade said, ignoring the traitorous look Prowl shot him.

"I knew there had to be something wrong with your battle computer, such advanced battle computers had never been tested and are against the law. Your creators must have been insane, and stupid, to have installed one in you. Pit, they probably installed it when you were a youngling and had no choice in the matter. I never did understand the crazy ones, probably because they were crazy and I'm certainly not. Now, I'll take a look at that battle computer of yours after I fix these energon wounds," the red and white mech, Ratchet, said as he started to work on Prowl's door wings.

Prowl held still as his door wings were tampered with even though pain was shooting across his sensor net every time a tool was brought to the appendages. If Ratchet thought it was odd that he could stay so still he didn't vocalize the thought, mumbling to himself as he worked on the damage on the black and white chassis.

Barricade shoved an energon cube into his hand, receiving a wrench to his helm for his efforts. The larger black and white mech couldn't help but hover, still worried for his friend. Ratchet's reaction hadn't been good and now the medic was silent. Silence was always worse than ranting, always. The red and white mech had to be worried about something. What, Barricade didn't know.

The energon wounds didn't take a long time to fix however it was tedious work to have a thorough look at Prowl's battle computer. The young mech had lain down on the couch and powered down to allow the medic to look through his battle computer, grudgingly of course. The medic thought it odd that the mech wasn't more uptight about his helm being opened as his precious battle computer being analysed.

Of course, Ratchet didn't know about how frequently the engineers had looked into Prowl's battle computer and upgraded random parts of it. The red and white medic had assumed that he had had the same battle computer since he was a youngling but he was sorely mistaken, as he realized upon his inspection of the tactical asset.

There were split wires everywhere within the mech's helm, the casing that should have been around them non-existant. Ratchet was surprised Prowl's head hadn't actually been set alight at any point in time, it was certainly a shabby enough job to warrant such a consequence. Old splicing and new splicing were everywhere along the wires, easily distinguishable from eachother. There wasn't one, strong unmarred wire connecting the battle computer to the processor inside the black and white helm.

The battle computer itself was a dodgy piece of work, Ratchet could tell. Most of the wiring was easily seen, tangled in and around itself, forming knots in some places. Some wires had been cut, sliced straight through, with no welding done to seal them off. Undoubtedly those wires would be sparking every time Prowl used his battle computed, which was all the time.

What worried Ratchet the most was that he could see no wiring or connection between Prowl's spark and his battle computer. It was medical fact that a battle computer not linked to a spark would be unbalanced and detrimental to the health of the bot with the piece of equipment.

There was nothing the medic could do about the battle computer, not in his current surroundings. Even if he was in his medical bay there still wouldn't be much he could do. The battle computer was advanced, more advanced than anything he had seen before and to downgrade Prowl's battle computer would throw his processor into a fritz.

The advancement difference between the black and white mech's battle computer and processor was immense. The processor had only been upgraded once, that the medic could tell, and was much more basic than the tactical asset. The tactical computer had been replaced at least five times since the mech was a youngling.

Ratchet's inspection of the mech's chassis made him suck in a breath, old welds littered the frame. It was easy to tell that nothing had been done by a medic, most of it looked like work by and engineer or a technician. In some places there wasn't even welds, just the scars from wounds that had been healed by the bot's self repair systems.

Barricade paced nervously around the room, optics never leaving Prowl's frame. He growled lowly as he saw the mess that was Prowl's helm, the torn up wiring within it. His servos clenched at his side as Ratchet sucked in his breath, nothing could be good if the medic was having such a reaction.

Ashdancer had left the room, not wanting to deal with the mechs. Barricade had heard her mentionsomething about going into the city to check out some shops but he didn't really pay it much attention, no point really.

When prowl was brought online he could feel nothing different, except the absence of the slight pain his battle computer had been sensing. Nothing hurt now, except the dents on his helm from the temperamental medic. Barricade stood across the room, leaning up against the wall with a look of arrogance.

Nothing had changed in Prowl's battle computer that he could tell anyway. The black and white mech became conscious of two optics boring into his helm and turned towards the source. Ratchet was staring at him….creepily.

"Alright young bot, who the pit installed that battle computer?" Ratchet growled.

"The medics…?" Prowl replied, the answer coming out more like a question.

"It was not, now tell me the truth," Ratchet rebuked.

"I cannot say, my creator would not allow that," Prowl responded, hoping the medic would take the hint and leave well enough alone.

Of course the medic couldn't just take a hint and instead continued to press.

"I don't give a slag what your creator thinks, who installed that damned battle computer!" Ratched yelled.

"The engineers did," Prowl answered, not wanting to get into an argument so soon after crashing his battle computer, especially not an argument with emotions.

"Damn those pit-spawned slag heads to the pit! They could at least do a good job if they are going to do something illegal!" Ratchet ranted, getting on a role.

"I am sure that they did the best they could. Now, if you will excuse me, I have new tactical plans to draw up," the black and white mech said as he started to get off the couch.

A red servo reached out and shoved him back into the comfortable piece of furniture. "You are not doing aythign involving your battle computer so soon after it crashed!"

"The command staff needs the plans and I intend to deliver them on time," Prowl said, voice like steel.

"You're not doing anything of the sort. You'll return home and rest your processor, battle computer and chassis," Ratchet ordered.

"You do not have any control over me, you can not make me do that," Prowl argued, once again attempting to stand up.

"I very well can make you do what needs to be done medically. I will contact your superiors and let them know you are off work for this orn and next. Barricade will return to your quarters with you and ensure that you do indeed rest," Ratchet commanded.

"Of course Ratchet, did you really think I was going to leave him alone?" Barricade said, adding ome input to the conversation.

"No!" Prowl cried in desperation, knowing that if Ratchet told the command staff why he wasn't going to work for the orn his creator would be contacted immediately.

"Why the frag not?" Ratchet asked, voice deadly sharp.

"Creator will find out and then I'll be even worse for wear than I am now," Prowl said, hoping the medic would listen to reason.

"Humph."

"I'll return to my quarters but I need to submit this plan. They won't know if I'm not here but they will require the tactical plan," Prowl reasoned.

"It's as good as a compromise as I'm going to get isn't it?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes."

"Very well then. Barricade, make sure that he doesn't stress himself out and that he relaxes after sending in the plan," Ratchet said, Barricade nodding his head in a sign of agreement.

Ratchet then left the room, leaving Prowl and his black and white counterpart looking at each other wearily.

"Come on then, let's head to your quarters and get you settled. You've got energon there I assume?" Barricade said as he walked over to Prowl.

"Yes, of course I have energon in my quarters however they are not going to be very accommodating for the two of us," Prowl answered.

"It's fine so long as you relax, I don't particularly need to."

The trip to Prowl's quarters didn't take too long for the two mechs. The distance wasn't overly great and it wasn't as if there was much traffic.

The black and white mech's apartment was within a fairly squat building, the outside as drab as any other establishment in the shadier area of the city.

"How do you know your apartment won't be broken in to here?" Barricade asked as he assessed the building.

"I am not 100% certain that it won't be broken into but I wanted to make sure that I was close to our headquarters and this seemed to be the most suitable place for me to stay."

They entered the lobby area of the building and took the stairs up to the next level where Prowl's apartment was located. The walls were littered with graffitti and the lights flickered dismally. There was filth everywhere, along the floors and walls. The inside of the building gave the appearance that it hadn't been cleaned in years.

When Prowl opened the door to his quarters and Barricade got a glimpse of the room he was stunned. The room was bare except for a berth and energon dispenser. There were no datapadds, no trinkets, no nothing. It worried Barricade to see that there wasn't anything personal within the room, it was as bare as Prowl's office at the work place.

The smaller black and white mech entered the room and sat down on his berth, withdrawing a data pad from subspace. The mech then gestured for Barricade to take a seat on the berth as well, considering it was the only place a bot could sit other than the floor.

"Do you always keep your quarters so bare?" Barricade asked as he sat down on the berth, a fair distance from Prowl.

"Of course, there is no reason for me to clutter my room with useless commodities."

Prowl plugged into his data pad and started to ignore Barricade as he worked on the plan. His battle computer worked quickly albeit painfully as he formulated the tactical data. It wouldn't take his battle computer long running at this speed however still being low on energon his battle computer wouldn't be able to sustain the speed for long.

Barricade must have picked up on this as he walked across the room and collected an energon cube to hand to Prowl. The black and white mech didn't acknowledge the gesture, intead he brought the energon cube to his lip plates as he held the data pad in his other servo.

The energon burned slightly as Prowl drank it, the quality not the best. It didn't particularly bother him, it was only a substance to keep him online, not to enjoy. The liquid substance was thick and syrupy because of the poor quality. The texture was grainy as it brushed along Prowl's glossa and slid down the back of this throat. In all, it was amazing he never choked on the foul substance.

Barricade reseated himself on the berth, closer to the other mech this time. Prowl never realised he got so deep in thought but it was glaringly obvious to Barricade. Jazz wanted to reach out his arms and pull his team mate to his chassis but he knew he couldn't, not so soon after the other mech had fried his battle computer. Jazz made a silent pact to himself to be on the look out for any other issues with his friend's battle computer. It must have been common for Prowl to recover so quickly and then worry about what he thought.

It dawned on Barricade that Prowl had probably been hiding the issues with his battle computer for vorns. There had never been a rumour about his battle computer fritzing or Prowl suddenly collapsing. The secretive mech must have hidden it from everyone, including the engineers and his own creator. Jazz acknowledged the fact that it must have been difficult at the academy with all the other mechs around. Really it was a miracle that his team mate hadn't been found out before now.

Prowl unplugged himself from the datapad on completion of the tactical plan. The room spun for a few moments before levelling out, the mech's equilibrium chips out of place because of the strain on his processor. A steadying servo reached out and grasped his shoulder, helping Prowl to regain a correct sense of the room.

Barricade saw the way Prowl had started to list slightly on the berth, leaning towards him, optics unfocused. Touching the other mech seemed to help to bring him back into focus. To Jazz it showed how strained the mech was and how much he needed a rest.

Pushing lightly on the shoulder nearest to him, Barricade coaxed Prowl to lay down on the berth.

"Come on Prowl, you've finished the plans now you need to rest," Barricade said, as he eased the other mech down.

"I do not need to be looked after like some youngling Barricade. I am quite capable of looking after myself."

"I know you are and of course you aren't a youngling Prowl. Sometimes you just need to stop with the stubborn pride and let someone else help you," Barricade retorted.

The comment seemed to silence Prowl as he stopped to think about something. Barricade just continued to help the mech lay down on his berth. The injured doorwings were laid flat against the unyeilding berth. Not one sound was garnered from the black and white mech's vocaliser despite the pain he should have been feeling at the contact.

It stunned Prowl to hear the other mech tell him that he should let someone else help him. Since being a youngling he had been told to look after himself, not let anyone see any of his weaknesses and never to rely on another. Now, his team mate was telling him to rely on the other mech, to let Barricade help him. It went against everything his creator had said, everything he had been taught but it felt nice to be looked after, if only for a short amount of time.

"Thank you."

"What for?" Barricade asked, somewhat startled by the other mech talking.

"For helping me. No one has ever helped me before, not without ulterior motives," Prowl responded.

"Well then, you're welcome. Just relax for a bit Prowl, maybe try to get some recharge."

"Mmhm," Prowl mumbled as he started to drift off, not much prodding needed for him to slip into recharge.

Barricade continued to sit on the edge of the berth, optics transfixed on the vibrant chevron upon the black and white helm. Elegant doorwings that were usually held so stiffly now relaxed and splayed across the berth. Jazz felt a stirring of lust for his long time friend but immediately quelled it. Prowl didn't know it was him, his disguise as Barricade holding firm. Not that it should have been expected to fall flat, Ratchet himself had done the frame modifications to allow him to complete the mission. It was just a good thing that he was still in his third frame and awaiting his fourth.

It occurred to Jazz that Prowl was in a full mech frame, two vorns away for Jazz. When they had been at the orn care they hadn't been that far apart in frame and processor age. Obviously his friend had been accelerated through his frames and processors to get to where he was now. His spark was most likely still one of a mechling or even youngling depending on when the acceleration had started. Sparks upgraded into frames before their time usually stopped their maturation from the shock.

Barricade started to feel the toll on his chassis as he stood there watching Prowl. Throwing away any thought of the consequences he slid onto the berth with his team mate, lying behind the other mech. Powering down his optics he slipped into a light recharge, ready to wake up the astrosecond the other frame came online.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading everyone. What was your favourite spoken line in the chapter? Review!<p> 


	13. Waking Up

Hey everyone! This is a bit of a short chapter, simply because of the way the chapters have fallen. I don't think was actually planning this one so it came out of left field. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, you are totally making my day! We only need one more review to get to the epic 20 review mark. Stolen high grade for the 20th reviewer. I know it isn't showing the right count number for the reviews at the moment but it is probably linked to the fact that all of the reply links for the reviews aren't working, hence the fact I am pming you all back after you submit a review.

As for NaNo I'm going well so do not fear. I just hit 47k and I'm planning on continuing my great writing spree until late tonight. I may even make it to the 50k by tomorrow, as it is my goal. I apologise for any mistakes in this story so far but it's nano and there is no editing in this time. If any of you would like to beta read this story for me just drop me a review or a pm.

Thanks Thalanee for your wonderful review, it was great to get it!

* * *

><p>Night cycle had fallen across the city by the time Prowl roused himself from his recharge. Two arms were wrapped around his frame, a chassis pressed up behind him. Looking down he spotted the black and white arms, their paint colours the exact same tone as his own. He was shcked to find his team mate behind him, holding him affectionately.<p>

His battle computer started to analyse the situation but Prowl forcefully steered it onto figures and plans, locking up now wouldn't be a good idea, not at all. Once he had pushed passed the impending lock on his tactical asset Prowl noticed that it was comfortable having the other mech so close to him, it didn't really scare him too much. The black and white mech had thought that he would have been afraid to have another chassis so close to him, simply because of all he had been through.

Some part of his processor was keeping track of every minute movement that Barricade performed but nothing really alarmed him. It amazed him that he felt so comfortable around this other mech, Prowl hadn't thought he had become that close to his team mate. After being terrified of getting to close to other mechs, getting to know them Prowl had gotten to know a mech without consciously knowing it.

Barricade started to stir behind him, vents increasing in their tempo. The other mech's digits started to twitch as his processor reengaged and brought him fully online.

"Hmm, your awake now Prowl. I wasn't sure how long you'd be in recharge for," Barricade said, vocaliser still booting up.

"Yes, I came back online only a few clicks ago."

"I know you're probably not happy about me being on the berth with you but I got bored and decided to get some recharge. I hope you don't mind too much."

"I do not mind all that much Barricade. It was actually pleasant to wake up with you here," Prowl responded, baffled with all of the dull emotions in his frame.

"Hmm that's good."

Barricade slid out from behind Prowl and walked across the room to get two cubes of energon. The liquid no better than it had been earlier. Handing Prowl a cube, the larger black and white mech started to sip his own cube, only to start choking on the grainy substance.

"What grade of energon is this Prowl? It can't be good on the systems, it's barely refined," Barricade asked, a disgusted expression on his faceplates.

"I believe it is low grade. My systems cope with it perfectly well and it keeps me functioning optimally."

"Like pit your systems are operating at their best. No bots system's run at their best unless they at least have mid grade energon. Ratchet would offline you if he knew you were consuming this stuff and running your battle computer," Barricade argued.

"My systems run fine on this because this is the type of energon I have been consuming for vorns. Even if Ratchet had an issue with me drinking this he cannot do anything about it," Prowl rebutted.

"You've what! Pit you creator must have been insane to give this grade to a youngling, it clogs up filters and corrodes energon lines."

"I resent the fact that you are calling my creator crazy, despite the information you are using to create your assumption. As for the filters, they are fine if you clean them regularly."

"Primus Prowl, I'm going to go get you a mid-grade energon dispenser so that you don't offline yourself," Barricade stated as he turned to leave the room.

It shocked and horrified Jazz that his friend had been consuming low grade for vorns. It was just idiotic to consume such a low grade and try to run an advanced processor as well as a battle computer. No wonder the smaller black and white mech was having trouble with glitches. There was bound to be a link with the bad energon and the over taxation of that equipment. Prowl surprised himself, and Barricade when he threw himself across the room and clung to Barricade, not allowing him to escape the room.

"Don't! I can get my own energon dispenser but I don't need it. I will not have you going out and embarrassing me!"

"I'm not trying to embarrass you; I'm trying to help you. If you keep having such bad energon you'll end up offlining yourself or having more glitches. Just let me help you stubborn glitch," Barricade pleaded.

A moment of emotional exchange occurred, the two mech's optics meeting and conveying feeling. Prowl's battle computer was starting to lock up and Barricade saw the symptoms this time, Placing his servo's on either side of the smaller mech's face he forced him to look at him.

"Prowl, distract your battle computer, it's going to fritz otherwise. Think about our upcoming mission, is there any way we could improve the odds? What about our last mission? Is there any way we could have completed that?"

Prowl's battle computer instantly started to work through those scenarios, the mech thankful that Barricade had tried to distract him. It didn't take long for the fritz within his battle computer to subside. Prowl locked down his battle computer as soon as he could, the first time he had ever even attempted such a feat.

The change in the smaller mech's posture was extremely noticeable. His doorwings relaxed, dropping from their high, regal position above the black and white helm. His shoulders relaxed slightly, posture no longer so up tight

"Better now?" Barricade asked as Prowl's optics came back into focus.

"Yes, thank you."

"Now as for the energon dispenser I can easily get one myself and I shall do so if you insist."

"Prowl, I just want to make sure you're okay, I don't like seeing you damaged or hurting."

"You have not known be for that long. It is odd for you to behave this way. I am sure this is why my battle computer does not like to have to work around emotions, there is no rhyme or reason to them."

"Emotions don't have to make sense, nothing does really."

The comment was so out of character for Barricade that Prowl became somewhat worried for the other mech's health. Usually the black and white mech was logical, or at least more logical than that. Prowl decided to put it down to the other mech only just coming out of recharge.

"I shall purchase a better energon dispenser next orn, as for the moment the current dispenser will suffice."

"I should probably leave now Prowl. I'll let you get back to relaxing. I'll see you back at the office in a couple of orns. I expect you to take it easy next orn."

With that Barricade turned and left the cramped quarters, Prowl left standing in the middle of the room. The larger black and white mech couldn't leave the building fast enough, knowing how close he had come to giving away his cover. Not even his child hood friend was worth blowing his cover and he had almost given away his identity subconsciously.

Berating himself Jazz vowed to work on his ability to hide his own personality. He had to become the mech he was playing, forget who he actually was. He could do it well enough at the academy but why couldn't he do it here?

Really it all came back to Prowl. The mech was so unaware of his own naivety when it came to normal, every orn things. His creator really must have been screwed up to have Prowl still thinking such things. Jazz shuddered to think of what his friend's youngling hood must have been like. Nothing like his own, that was for sure.

Desperate to put the incident from his mind Barricade headed towards the meeting place he was expected to be at within a joor. The youngling had contacted him so now it was time to get the information he needed and get on with the real job he was here for.

The mechs from the gladiator rings had already started making trouble in Kaon, there wasn't much time left before there would be uprisings across Cybertron. The quicker Jazz and Ashdancer moved, the more prepared the council would be and the better control there would be over the situation.

Jazz hurried forward, transforming into his vehicle mode to shoot off into the deserted roads. The area not that crowded during the day now bare of any mechs or femmes of any description. Most would be in the rings or offering their services as pleasure bots. The growl of Barricade's engines reverberated around the closed in area surrounding the road as he sped towards his destination.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Question: What was your favourite bit in this chapter?<p> 


	14. The Mask Slips

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter fourteen and I certainly hope you enjoy it. This chapter is around 3.5k long so it should make up for the last chapter's shortness. My brain is totally not working today because I'm sick so just don't pay attention to the horrible grammar in this author note. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far and a special shout out to Sideslip who had the 20th review. Also a major shout out to NineCrow who is constantly pming me and giving me feedback on this story. You guys both rock!

Thanks to everyone who has added this story to their favourites/alerts list. On to my major announcement: this story is officially 50000 words long on my computer which is simply amazing for me. Of course this means I have officially completed NaNo this year for my first ever year! Admittedly the story is only around half way through the plot line so it shall be a while before it is complete. Up on my profile is a poll where you can vote on which story should be finished off/worked on in December while I'm away on holidays. Currently three of my other stories are tied so you may want to go get your votes in.

Now you can all enjoy this chapter because I've finally finished my ranting. The next chapter shall be posted after I get two reviews. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Not long after, Cybertron saw uprisings in all of its main cities. The gladiator mechs and the followers of the rings demanded rights to proper housing and more credits. Mining mechs aligned with the gladiator rings to present a formidable fighting front.<p>

Enforcers struggled to keep the disturbances to a minimum. Every orn enforcers in the worst parts of each city would return from duty injured, chassis' not designed to take on the heavily armoured opponents.

In Praxus the enforcers weren't even doing anything. The head quarters had sent out orders to let the uprisings run their course and to not interfere with the violent demonstrations. Many of the enforcers here would even join in the carnage every night cycle when the more wealthy parts of the city would be set alight and mechs beaten offline.

The mech currently heading the force was a mech by the name of Megatron. In some places such as Kaon he was their figure head, their leader. In others he was the name that instilled fear in the well-to-do citizens. Across Cybertron everyone knew Megatron's name, it was yelled triumphantly by crowds as they trashed cities and muttered with fear in the halls of the council buildings.

Creator Three, from his place in Iacon saw how Megatron was gaining momentum. Soon he would have control of Cybertron and then Prowl would serve as his tactician. Of course that pesky Shockwave was trying to weasel a position as a tactician for the mech as well but it would not endanger Prowl. No mech or femme had such an advanced battle computer, no other mech would be able to serve Megatron as Prowl could.

Soon it would be time to contact Prowl, to tell him to contact Megatron. Soon, oh so soon, his plan would see it's finale. He could taste the success on his glossa, the taste as sweet as any upmarket energon candy.

Prowl's team was no longer getting any missions for them to complete, Prowl had many missions to formulate but none of them were to be put into action by the team. For the black and white mech this meant that he had a constant helm ache, the trials of formulating plans with many unknown variables taking it's toll.

He had purchased a better energon dispenser so that Barricade would be satisfied. The other mech still watched him closely to make sure he was drinking the right energon but he had relaxed recently. Barricade would bring him energon at certain points during the orn as he worked through the battle plans.

The office which used to have no furniture within it now held a chair and desk. A port had been installed for a datapad so that Prowl could work without disruption. The recreation room stayed empty half of the time, Ashdancer off in the city and Barricade perched on Prowl's desk watching him work.

Of course there were times when Barricade would leave the building to go down to the rings, to meet with his contacts in the gladiator rings. Jazz's mission was coming along, he had almost gathered the information needed. It was about time too with all of the uprisings. The orn when the mission was completed wouldn't come soon enough for the instructors back at the academy who were chomping at the bit for the results.

The orn was like any other, Prowl sitting his office working on his data pad while Barricade was down in the recreation room getting some energon for the two of them. Ashdancer hadn't been around for breems and was most likely out with her new mech friend, the sheer number of whom made Prowl think that she was a bit of a 'player' as Barricade would put it.

The front doorway to the facility swung open slowly, it's hinges creaking. Multiple sets of footprints came running down the halls, moving fast. Prowl got up from his desk, unsubspacing his energon dagger as he moved to stand behind his door.

The hurried footsteps ran straight past his office, heading directly for the entrance to the recreation room. The black and white mech slipped from his office and followed the source of the sound down the hallway. Voices filled the hallway as the pede steps stops.

Barricade looked up from the energon cubes as he heard the front door open and footsteps hurry down the hall. By the sound the mech could tell it was two lighter frames, most likely suited to the twins he had been liasing with. Withdrawing his energon sword he readied it, just in case.

Two frames burst into the room, one red, one yellow. Each mech had scratches upon his frame, energon leaking from multiple wounds. It was easy to tell they were young, despite the adult frames. Vents heaved with effort, horrified expressions present on both sets of faceplates.

"Barricade, we need to go," Sideswipe said hurriedly, glancing behind him wearily.

"Now!" Sunstreaker added, pacing around the room, unable to stay still.

"We can leave now. The plans are in place. What happened?" Barricade said, firing off the information.

Prowl reached the doorway just as the larger black and white mech announced that he was leaving, with these two mechs. The news shocked Prowl, threw his battle computer for a couple of clicks.

"Barricade? You are leaving? When did you plan on telling me?" Prowl asked, enraged.

"Prowl…I have to leave. I wasn't planning on leaving for at least another vorn or two. Things have just come up with these two. I was going to tell you but I don't have time to talk now," Barricade said, a look of regret in his optics.

The black and white mech's spark was in agony, the thought of leaving his friend painful. There was guilt there too, he had befriended this mech again with a false identity, undoubtedly this would weaken Prowl's trust in Jazz if he ever found out.

"Where are you going? I thought that you had been moved here permanently," the smaller black and white mech asked as he followed behind Barricade and the other two mechs as they walked towards the exit to the building.

The guilt surged through Barricade, spurring a moment of disregard for his original orders.

"I was here on a mission Prowl, one that will be my last at the Iacon academy."

A look of confusion passed over Prowl's faceplates. "I checked your history, you went through the enforcer academy with Ashdancer.

At that moment the femme burst through the door ahead of them. "Jazz, we have to move!"

"I know, what did you think I was doing?" Barricade snarled, pushing the Sunstreaker and Sideswipe ahead of him out the door, right behind Ashdancer.

Turning to Prowl he laid two servo's on the white faceplates. "Prowl, I'm sorry. I'm Jazz, from the orn care. I don't know if you remember me but it was good to get to know you. It was me you got to know, not Barricade. I hope you'll forgive me but I have to leave."

With that Barricade turned and sprinted from the building, transforming the click he was clear. Engines screamed as the four bots shot through the slums of Praxus, a destination over and orn's travel away.

Prowl stood stunned in the doorway of the headquarters, unmoving. Energon tears started to form in his optics but he blinked them back before turning to head inside. It hurt to find out that Barricade and Ashdancer weren't actually who they thought they were.

The idea that Jazz would have lied to him the whole time shook him to the core. To think that Jazz could now lie easily to him was just scary. The small slip in character by Barricade all those orns ago was now easily explained. That couldn't have been the Barricade side, it must have been Jazz slipping up.

The only consolation Prowl had was that Jazz had apparantely shown the 'real' him. Of course it would be hard to distinguish where Barricade ended and Jazz started. There had been no prevailing accent, none of the small mannerisms his orn care friend used to have.

His battle computer went through and analysed everything it could, right down to each nanosecond they had spent together. The way Barricade had looked after him was most likely a Jazz attribute, the way he killed easily probably something of Barricade.

Distinguishing like this though wouldn't work. If Jazz could become Barricade then he must have had those traits to a certain extent. The battle computer wanted to draw lines, place the data on either side of the line and label each column 'Barricade' and 'Jazz'. It didn't work like that though, there was a middle, overlapping area which the tactical asset couldn't provide for.

Pushing the thoughts of his team mate out of his mind Prowl returned to the now empty recreation room. Two cubes of energon sat on the table, full to the brim. One had obviously sloshed over its edge, a small puddle of liquid beneath it on the table.

The room looked abandoned, empty. The machinery whirred quietly, not really loud enough to make it a main feature of the room.

Walking over to the computer Prowl turned it on, prepared to contact his superiors. It wasn't a pleasant thought, the idea that he would have to tell his superiors that his team mates had left, not giving him much explanation.

It didn't occur to Prowl that he should dob Barricade aka Jazz in to the superiors. To him it would have been immoral, wrong. So instead he tried to formulate some sort of cover story but nothing came to him. Instead he decided to skip over Barricade's confession and just tell the rest of it like it had happened.

The screen lit up as he proceeded to make the call. His superiors were furious, two leaving immediately to come to the facility to see what was going on. The others started pulling up paperwork and demanding reports from Prowl.

The black and white doorwinger listened with an expressionless face. The small amount of emotion he had been showing because of Barricade now gone, hidden within him. His façade never cracked, not even when the mechs on the other end of the connection started to scream abuse at him, nothing affected him.

Turning off the screen Prowl swung away from the monitors to face the rest of the room. He felt as if he had no energy, not wanting to move anywhere. It felt as if all of his minor happiness had been dragged away when Barricade had left.

He was stirred from his despairing thoughts when he heard two vehicles pull up at the front of the building. Springing out of his chair he dashed forwards to the reception area, ready to meet the enraged mechs.

The door swung open with a sharp crack, snapping off of it's hinges. Two imposing frames charged into the room, coming to an abrupt halt right in front of the black and white doorwinger.

"What the hell happened here? I expect to see each of these facilities in perfect running order and then your door falls off? It's despicable I tell you! I will not have this from the Praxian enforcers and you will certainly not get any leniency just because of your battle computer," the front mech snarled, top lipplate curling up in disgust.

"Yes Sir, I shall ensure that it gets fixed," Prowl responded automatically.

Walking forwards into the rest of the building the two mechs left Prowl to trail behind and forcefully accept any and all comments directed his way.

"You should have kept them both here, we could have tortured them for information," the second mech admonished in a stern tone, as though Prowl really had a say in what his team mates did.

"Never mind that now we already have teams looking out for them. They can not get far. Undoubtedly they are working for the gladiator mech, Megatron," the first mech replied, is wide doorwings held stiffly.

Prowl made a choked sound in his throat, the thought of Barricade, Jazz, getting tortured wasn't a good one. His spark flared slightly at the idea as Prowl tried to make sure that the two mechs hadn't heard the noise.

"They will find the two soon enough. The more information we stop from getting to Megatron the better," the second mech said, his thoughts on a totally different track.

The enforcers were aligned with the gladiator mechs, Megatron especially. There was no way that Ashdancer or Barricade were working for the silver and white mech. The intel from Megatron had said that they were most likely spies, from Iacon to find out what was happening. Of course Prowl wouldn't know anything about that, loyal to the enforcers.

Barricade and Ashdancer would be brought in, tortured and then killed. Megatron would most likely be the one to torture them not the enforcers.

"This whole facility is in horrible order, we need this place fixed up ASAP. We will send two other mechs to help you but you will be working quadruple shifts until the work on the building is done," the first mech said, interrupting the other enforcer's train of thought.

"Yes sir," was all he got in reply.

Prowl's battle computer was speeding through the small amounts of data he had gathered. Something about these mech's attitudes was off, Barricade and Ashdancer hadn't done anything to be assumed of aligning themselves with Megatron.

All the data he had was checked and then double checked. The only answer he could come up with was that the enforcers were corrupt, aligned with the gladiator rings. The thought was absurd, it couldn't possibly be so.

Why then, did it seem to fit so well with creator three's plan? He had never liked the council, complained about them often, even on a joorly basis. The enforcers were supposedly on the side of the council but still he had sent Prowl to an enforcer academy to study.

The only answer was that the enforcers were corrupt. Creator three must want to help the gladiators wreak havoc, take control of the council. Maybe a deal had been struck, between Megatron and his creator.

The thoughts chilled Prowl, Jazz's mission now obvious to him. The iacon academy wanted data on what was going on, they wanted to know what was happening in order to stop the mayhem going further. Barricade must have gone down to the rings, to gather information. The two mechs who had barged in were most likely contacts he had found there.

It made sense to Prowl, the reason the other mech had disappeared of a night cycle so often. With that in mind the black and white mech decided that it was time to make a plan, to try to throw a spanner in the works of the enforcers and their alignment with Megatron. He would have to try anything and everything to get them to stuff up.

There was the possibility of giving away some of the plans to someone in Iacon, someone on the same side as the council. He could make the plans false or something to that affect. Maybe he could swing it so that the plans he handed up had low success rates, it could possibly work.

In Prowl's processor there was no doubt that his plans had been used to benefit the rings, to help them gain power. In his spark Prowl didn't like the ideals of the illegal mechs, he didn't like the way bots from the slums were rounded up and forced into the rings, to fight against each other until they offlined.

He would do what he could to stop them, to give the council some time. Maybe the volunteer force would be brought together soon, they could at least put some pressure on the many lower class mechs trying to take control of the once peaceful planet.

"I expect the work to be done Prowl, and your reports to be in on time. Do you understand?" the second mech asked as they turned to leave.

"Yes sir, the work will be completed to a satisfactory standard," Prowl replied, already trying to think of the first thing he could do to stop the enforcers being of any more use.

Turning from the black and white doorwinger the two higher up enforcers left the building. Prowl didn't wait at the doorway for them to leave, instead he turned on his heel and went back to the recreation room. Grabbing a cube of energon he tried to think about how he could help the council.

He knew it would be risky and that he would undoubtedly get punished often with a lot of dud plans but it was really the only viable option. Of course sending the plans to Iacon would work too, if he had someone to send them to.

A new set of pede steps could be heard in the hall, these ones suspiciously like Ratchet's. Even as he thought of the mech the red and white chassis appeared at the doorway to the recreation room.

"Jazz commed me to let me know that he had left and that I should check on you. Don't know why he would have thought that I needed to, what with you being all up tight and all," the grumpy medic said as he sauntered in to sit on one of the couches.

"You knew it was Jazz?" Prowl exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes you slagging youngling, of course I did."

Prowl just looked at the medic with a stunned expression.

"Are you just going to sit there staring at me all day or are you going to get on with your 'important' work?"

Without answering Prowl fired back a question of his own, a plan coming into his processor.

"Are you going back to Iacon?"

"Not yet. Why do you ask?" The medic replied, not quite so grumpy now, instead he seemed to be curious as to what was going on inside Prowl's helm.

"Could you pass information on to someone at the academy? The enforcers are corrupt and I plan on doing something to swing the battle plans in favour of the council," Prowl answered.

"So you knew about the enforcers being corrupt?" Ratchet asked.

"Not until a few joors ago, it just added up. Now, can you help me or not?"

"I'll pass on whatever you need me to pass on. How will you get the information to me?"

"I'll drop it at a certain location for you to pick up, that way no one will draw a connection between you and I. Then you can pick it up and pass it on to Iacon."

"The plan sounds like it should work. Where will the information be placed?"

"In the crystal gardens, by the largest structure there on the north side. There is a tiny almost imperceptible hollow underneath the crystal. The data shall be placed there."

"Very well then Prowl. Now I'll need to take a look at my patches to make sure you have healed properly," Ratchet said sternly, his tone brooking no argument.

Prowl sat still as the medic scanned him, making noises which didn't give anything away.

"You're healing well enough at the moment. However the wounds will open up again soon enough if you go through with this plan of yours. You do realize that they will be purposely injuring you?" Ratchet said as he finished up his scan.

"I realize and the pain shall be worth it. This won't be the first time where I've had to shut off my pain receptors."

Ratchet made an annoyed sound at the comment. "You do realize you shouldn't be doing that, most bots don't."

"Yes, but sometimes it is the only way one can cope."

"Hm, I'll leave you be. When would you like me to look for the first bit of data and how often?" Ratchet asked as he walked towards the doorway.

"Start in two orns and then every deca-cycle after that. Hopefully I shall be of some use to the council."

"Undoubtedly you'll be of use although you would be of more use if you just left and went to Iacon."

"That is not an option Ratchet. I must stay here."

With an affirmative nod the red and white medic left the room, Prowl once again the sole occupant of the building. There wouldn't be any more disruptions until the next orn, it was too close to the night cycle.

Getting up from the couch Prowl decided to start work on fixing the building. The sooner he got that done, the sooner he would be able to get back to planning full time and therefore helping the council. Having the building unoperational wouldn't do all that much damage to the gladiator rings but it would disadvantage him and his goals. It was time to start repairing, the first object of attention, the front door.

* * *

><p>That was chapter 14! How did you feel knowing that Prowl and Jazz are once again getting forced to go separate ways?<p> 


	15. Creator Three again?

Hey Everyone! Now that I have those three wonderful reviews here is your next chapter :D. This one is my normal length chapter so it's a little shorter than you are used to. I'm still amazingly at least a chapter ahead of you. Actually, I'm far enough ahead of you to forget what you are reading and get confuzzled with the reviews. NaNoFiMo officially starts today and my poll is currently tied between three stories, not one of which is this one. I know that this one is the one that is being read the most and is certainly getting the most attention of all my stories. Drop by the poll to get your vote in. I've got a busy weekend so I won't be starting until the fifth of December.

Also people, I'm off overseas in a mere 12 days so if you want some updates before I leave be sure to get those reviews in. I'm gone for seven weeks and I can't promise that I'll have reliable internet, or a computer for that matter. I'll still be able to write thanks to my iPod and of course, paper and pens.

Now I'll let you all get on to the story. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and for sticking with me this far. It's amazing to see that I have over 1000 visitors to this story. A special thanks to Sideslip for being a very reliable reviewer and also a thanks to SunnySidesofBlue to deciding to help me proof read this story. I'm still on the lookout for a beta, just to make sure everything is totally fixed up. Nothing has been proofed yet so this chapter still has my usual mistakes. Anyways, I'll finally let you read.

* * *

><p>The next few vorns passed slowly, extremely slowly for Prowl. Each orn was starting to drag, the damage to his chassis starting to tire him. Every orn he would get punished, quite severely for plans gone wrong.<p>

His exchange with Ratchet was working, the council always managing to quell the uprisings and stop some of the more covert operations of the gladiator rings. It didn't stop everything but it at least stopped a little.

However his creator had caught on and was coming to Praxus, undoubtedly to punish him. Each and every vorn had just proven to the black and white doorwinger that his creator wanted him to help the rings or even serve Megatron. The imposing mech hadn't actually said it out loud but it was there, an undertone to every conversation.

The council's volunteer fighting group had finally come together, a mech by the name of Optimus Prime being the leader of the small group. Each mech wasn't outfitted for battle but still they put up a good fight in each city. The group had been named the Autobots, the name offering a sense of peace and solace to all who were being badly affected by the uprisings.

The uprisings had increased in frequency, the streets of Praxus now a riot zone constantly. Brawls were fought in each and every main intersection, gladiators dueling it out with some of the more upper class citizens. The deteorioration in Praxus was horrible, no bot travelled there now for pleasure and nearly no bot came for work either.

The city had closed off from the rest of them, bar Kaon. They were the only two cities in complete chaos. Iacon and Tyger Pax still had some semblance of normal, bots could still walk the streets safely in the middle of the solar cycle. When night cycle fell it was a whole new scene.

The gladiator rings in Praxus and Kaon had moved above ground, coliseums stood tall against the horizon. In Iacon and Tyger Pax the cities became a scene of destruction with the night cycle. Heavy built mechs filled the streets, property was destroyed and many of the non-gladiator pedestrians were brutally offlined.

Prowl was sitting on his berth in his apartment, studying his options. Staying in Praxus was not viable, not with his creator coming. There was no way he was goig to work for Megatron but there was also no way he would be able to overpower his creator in order to escape. The only real option was leaving the city immediately on one of the transport shuttles.

Then again the transport shuttles were monitored and undoubtedly the enforcers would be alerted of his effort to leave the massive city. Essentially the place was in a sort of lock down state. His best bet to get out would be to stop by Ratchet's clinic, tell the medic that he was leaving and then leave the city on foot to go to Iacon.

There he would join the Autobots, that he was sure of. Prowl had been determined to join the Autobots as soon as he got out of Praxus and was no longer of help in his position there.

Taking one last look around his quarters Prowl went over to his door and stepped into the corridor. The lights were still dim, just like they always were. It seemed more ominous now than it had ever been, the perfect place for a bot to be offlined.

Prowl pushed the thought from his mind as he left the building, transforming into his vehicle mode the moment he was clear. The black and white mech knew he wouldn't have much time to contact Ratchet and get out of the city by it was worth a shot.

Revving his engine Prowl shot off down the street, winding through all of the back alleyways to get to the clinic. There wasn't too many bots along the roads, decreasing the likelihood that someone would be able to tell the enforcers where he had gone.

The clinic looked run down from the outside but the moment Prowl entered the misconception was clear. The inside of the building was in pristine condition, each piece of equipment old but perfectly clean and functional.

Ratchet stood by the far wall, cleaning the benches and equipment. No other bots were at he clinic, a good thing for Prowl.

"Ratchet?" Prowl asked, as he walked over to the medic.

Said mech turned around in alarm, a worried look on his faceplates.

"What's going on? Are you injured?" Ratchet questioned, hurrying over to Prowl.

"My creator is coming here, within the cycle. I am going to travel to Iacon by road and hopefully avoid the blockades. I was just dropping by to let you know that I am leaving," Prowl said placatingly.

"Pit fragging glitch, you do realise how hard it is going to be to get out of here? Luckily though I was already planning on leaving. I have a route mapped that should work and my work here is completed," Ratchet answered before walking over to one of the cupboards along the wall.

Opening the sliding door the red and white mech pulled out a few energon cubes, subspacing them immediately. "I can leave immediately and I assume you can as well."

"Your assumption is correct, I do not plan on sticking around for when my creator arrives as it would not be good for my health."

The medic shut off the lights in the medbay before following behind Prowl, heading out of the building. It was time to leave Praxus behind, to travel to Iacon and join the Autobots there. The two bots were no longer of any help in the fallen city and they could lend a hand in Cybertron's capital.

Ratchet hadn't planned on staying in Praxus after Jazz and Ashdancer had left, it had been his assignment as well. As one of the newest medics on the team at the Iacon academy it was a test to see how well he would do out in the field. The only reason he had stayed was to look out for Prowl and pass the information through.

Admittedly the information could have been passed through one of the other agents in the city but the red and white mech just didn't like the idea. The black and white doorwinger had been through too much already, despite the fact that he was more of a youngling than Jazz.

The two mechs stepped outside the building and made their way through the city on pede. Ratchet led the way, Prowl's black and white frame by his side for the whole trip. The other enforcers in the city were avoided with ease and most of the ordinary citizens didn't pay much attention to the two frames making their way through the city.

Keeping to the shadows and the dingier streets the two bright frames were noticed less. If they had been on one of the main streets the gladiators and other mechs would have given them greif. It was common to see mechs getting beaten if they had brightly coloured frames or were able to make a decent living before the uprisings. Those who were targeted were always those not involved in the more shady dealings of the slums and rings.

The border to the city was reached with relative ease although this would be the most difficult part of the journey. The two mechs were at one of the weakest sides to the border, the one backing the route to Kaon.

The gladiators, and Megatron, figured there would be no issue with bots travelling from Praxus to Kaon and vica versa. Both cities were controlled by the rings, the enforcers aligned with their power. This was the best way to get out of Praxus, despite the fact that they would have to drive, without roads, to Iacon.

Transforming into vehicle mode both Prowl and Ratchet rolled up to the gate, awaiting the signal to continue through. As customary the guards came across to talk to both of them, frames bulky and powerful.

"What is your business in Kaon?" the guard asked Ratchet, not as worried about Prowl due to the fact he was easily recognized as an enforcer.

"I have been summoned to deal with some patients there that need immediate medical attention," Ratchet replied, hoping the alibi established for him would hold.

Nodding his head in acceptance the guard walked over to Prowl. "And you?"

"I am to escort the medic to Kaon to ensure that he gets there as soon as possible," Prowl replied, thinking quickly to come up with the answer.

The guard must have accepted the answer as he waved both of them through, neither mech needed more of a hint to gun their engines and burst out onto the highway.

Ratchet's spark was pounding within it's casing, his first time doing anything resembling special ops scaring him to the core. The medic didn't envy the mechs trained in Special Operations, not with everything they had to go through.

Prowl hadn't had such a reaction. The whole experience was similar to talking with one of the engineers back at Iacon. He had become somewhat nervous when the guard questioned his intentions, worried that his creator had already arrived and sent out the alarm. Nothing would be quite as bad as Creator three punishing him in his own particular way.

With the open highway ahead of them Ratchet and Prowl pushed their engines to the maximum, following the road with ease, despite not having any wheels in contact with the ground. Each slight bend in the road presented no challenge to the two mechs as they sped away from the city, towards the point where they would turn off onto the harsher route to Iacon.

Each extra click they put behind them was one closer to their destination. The route now was rough, slowing them down immensely. There was an abandoned road leading to Iacon, unused for deca-vorns.

The energon they had just consumed would have to last them for the next half of the journey. Undoubtedly the Praxian authorities were looking for them, most likely alerted by Creator Three when he came looking for Prowl.

Prowl's chassis ached slightly, unused to driving for anywhere near as long as this. Usually he wouldn't be in his vehicle mode for this long so his chassis was not used to it whatsoever. The black and white doorwings had kinks in them, the neural net not quite functioning properly.

The black and white mech made no movement to correct his doorwings, not wanting to attract Ratchet's attention. The medic would most likely fuss over him, or force them to stop and neither was an appropriate option at the current point in time.

Ratchet was tired, desperately so. The amount of energon he had consumed not getting him very far despite how much he had drunk. A glance at Prowl showed him that the other mech was working fine, on less energon than him.

The red and white mech had noticed Prowl stowing two of the energon cubes handed to him, only drinking one of them. The black and white mech's engines were still working at premium level while Ratchet was starting to lag behind.

At any other point in time Ratchet would have been worried about the doorwinger and how he could run on so little. Really it meant that the mech had trained himself to run on minimal amounts of energon and most likely deprived his frame of it's much needed sustenance.

The two mechs trudged side by side in bi-pedal form, allowing their chassis to stretch out. Wires pinched constantly and different joints creaked but they steadily moved forwards, the further they got before stopping the less likely they would be to get discovered by the Praxian authorities.

Prowl started to think ahead, to when they would arrive in Iacon. Most likely they would have issues getting into the city, especially with all the issues in Praxus and Kaon. His frame wouldn't help him get very far, the doorwings distinctly Praxian.

The black and white mech entertained the idea of reaching out for SparkSoul for a few astroseconds before pushing the thought from his processor. He would only be contacting her if he really needed to, as in, life or death situation. He had managed without any of her help since he was in his youngling frame and it certainly wouldn't be good to start now.

Rachet's thoughts were also heading down the same path. Jazz had ensured that there was a safe pathway into iacon but it would depend on what time they managed to arrive at the city. The black and white mech had organized for either himself or one of his close friends to be waiting for them at an entrance to an underground tunnel a few clicks from the city.

The friend that would meet them there would most likely be Octane Racer with Starscream in tow. The two seemed to spend most of their time in the underground tunnels despite the seeker's natural fear of being closed in.

Ratchet stumbled as they walked along, almost falling flat on his face. The red and white mech had next to no energy, his chassis feeling drained. It was all he could do to keep himself upright. An energon cube was shoved into his servos soon after he righted himself, a glance to the left showing that Prowl was continuing on the trek and not consuming any energon of his own.

Not one to protest Ratchet drank down the energon, knowing that he somehow needed it more that his partner.

Prowl watched as the medic tripped, he had seen it coming from a long way off. The medic was fatigued but not complaining, Ratchet never would. Other medics might have, but not he red and white one. Pulling one of the energon cubes from subspace he shoved it into the medic's servos, studiously ignoring the look that was shot at him as he continued walking.

"Thanks," Ratchet mumbled, thankful for the energon.

"You need it more than I do. Once you finish we should transform into our alternative modes, we will travel faster that way," Prowl replied, cringing slightly at the idea of cramping his doorwings even more.

"Sounds like a good enough plan."

With that they continued on in silence, not saying much more for the rest of their journey. After changing back into the alternative modes they travelled swiftly to their destination. Each click was eaten up steadily by their powerful engines, the only noise that could be heard in the vicinity.

* * *

><p>Looking forward to the next chapter? Two reviews before I update! In the next chapter we pick up right here :D so we don't miss any action. Creator Three is in the picture again, what do you guys think is coming up?<p> 


	16. Iacon

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter sixteen. Thanks to some lovely reviewers you now have your next chappie. The next two chapters are just sitting in my document manager waiting to be uploaded when I get the next couple of reviews. This will also make it easier for me if I need to update while I'm away. :D

I've just gone and checked the poll to find that one of you lovely people has decided to vote for Life of a Datsun. More votes there and this will be the story that will be continued these holidays. To successfully complete NaNoFiMo I have to write 36k and finish the story. 36k is going to be nowhere near enough words to get this story done though!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, it means a lot to me! I'll let you guys get on with the story though, shouldn't keep you waiting that long. Also, for the two anonymous reviewers, the replies to your reviews are just below. :D

Liz: 7 weeks is definitely a very long time. Hopefully I'll get some internet over New Years and failing that I'll be able to get internet in Singapore when we are there. I'm glad I won't be losing you from this story's following and I know just how impatient you can get waiting for updates. This is certainly my best piece of work yet and is far better than my other ongoing stories on the website. Thanks for your review and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

KenKen: Ratchet and Prowl are certainly running, and pretty fast if you ask me. Creator Three shall be showing up more in a little while, he isn't going to let Prowl escape quite that easily.

:Com speak:

* * *

><p>Iacon city could be seen in the distance, tall buildings standing proud against the backdrop of the horizon. Not all seemed as grand as the outline of the city appeared. Some buildings were crumbling, others already fallen to rubble upon the ground.<p>

The entrance was coming up to the tunnel, the two mechs turning away from the outline of Iacon to find their way ahead. It was mid lunar cycle, the moons on cybertron bright enough to see by but just dark enough to hide a chassis that wanted to hide.

Ratchet found the tunnel first, after transforming into bipedal form to look for it. The entrance was just a large circle tunnel, set into the ground and covered by a ledge of steel. You wouldn't have been able to find it unless you were trying, only a small gap between the steel covering the hole and the normal steel of the ground.

In the shadows of the entrance two frames were hiding. Both had wings splayed wide, one a seeker the other a doorwinger. Optics were dim as they assessed the two mechs searching for the tunnel. The red and white mech suited their description purposely, the other frame unknown to them. They had only been told about the medic coming, not some other doorwinger.

However as Ratchet called out for the other mech to come over they decided that he musn't be too much of a threat. Nodding slightly to eachother so as not to garner too much attention from the mechs they shifted towards the entrance of the tunnel.

"Prowl, I've found the entrance," Ratchet said, gesturing the other mech over.

Nodding the black and white mech walked over, doorwings held stiffly despite the cramps within them. The harsh and fast driving had rattled his doorwings, cramped them immensely. He didn't bother stretching them out yet, they still had a ways to go before they would be safe.

Prowl peered into the entrance of the tunnel, noting that the gap allowed for frames to get down to it was thin and not all that long. It would be a squish to allow his doorwings through but it could be done.

A subtle movement in the shadows alerted the black and white doorwinger to the prescence of two sparks. On further inspection he could not locate any optics, obviously dimmed by their owners.

"I think our contacts are here Ratchet," Prowl said softly, in some ways hoping they would hear him and in other ways dreading it.

The second he spoke one of the frames stepped forwards, two bright blue optics piercing straight into his own. The frame, as he could see illuminated by the sketchy light was a royal blue and white a perfect red chevron upon the helm. It was a femme that much could be seen and the blurred outline of a set of doorwings could just be distinguished in the light.

"Jazz said you were coming and sent us to meet you. Come on down and we'll take you into Iacon. Hurry though, the city is going to go into lock down and you won't want to be caught on the streets," the femme said, gesturing to the gap in the steel.

Stepping forwards Prowl brought his doorwings close to his chassis, bringing in so they had the smallest span possible. The black and white mech placed both of his servos on one side of the metal, gripping tightly before swinging his pedes through the gap. His doorwings made it through the gap with a hairs breadth to spare.

After dropping to the ground Prowl shifted back so that he was against one of the walls, sensor net as sensitive as he could make it. The mech back in the shadows was hard to see, his sensors doing little better to register anything about him. The femme in front of him was waiting for Ratchet to get through the gap, using the same tactic as Prowl.

"Are you both ready? You'll need to transorm back into your vehicle forms, it's the best way to travel down here. Keep your lights on, stick close to myself and Starscream and you shouldn't get lost," the femme said before transforming into her alternate mode.

Prowl and Ratchet followed suit, Ratchet moving so that he was right behind the femme with Prowl right behind him.

The femme moved forward, picking up speed suddenly to rocket through the tunnels. The sound of her engines reverberated around the enclosed space, amplified by the walls.

Starscream, the mech, followed after Prowl, content to fly along slowly in his flight capable alternative mode. Having the sleek form following him so closely annoyed Prowl, his sensor net clashing with the seeker's. Admittedly the seeker probably didn't notice, too used to sharing fields with many other bots at a time.

It had always been a seeker trait, to share their sensor nets with other bots surrounding them. No doorwinger ever did it but the seekers always did. It annoyed Prowl that he was not only receiving his own data but also the data from another mech's systems. His battle computer had enough to cope with without the added strain from another sensor input.

The black and white mech ensured that the data was rourted so that it wouldn't go through his battle computer he turned his attention back to the winding tunnels. In some places they had to pick up speed to get over sections where there was no floor. Prowl found that the rush of the jump was exhilarating, really the only thing that had ever made him feel this exuberant.

Ratchet however, dreaded every single jump, the weightless feeling not agreeing with his equilibrium chip. He forged on, engine revving as he followed behind the femme, most likely Octane Racer although she hadn't introduced herself. The description Jazz had given him suited this femme perfectly.

The tunnels didn't last all that long and soon the group of four was transforming back into their original forms. Another entrance to the tunnel tcould be seen up ahead, the faint light from the opening only just reaching them. Nothing was said as the group moved towards the entrance, careful of being quiet.

Starscream went up ahead, most likely to send out his sensor net to check if anyone was nearby. It would be much better for them if no one was outside or anywhere near the area. The less people around, the less chance of them getting picked up.

As Prowl neared the entrance he could hear the sounds of protest on the streets, loud yells punctuated the air. The clang of metal could be heard distinctly, standing out above the cacophone of noise was screams of bots being beaten.

Without even seeing the streets Prowl could tell that they had drastically changed since the last time he had driven through them. The violence which had plagued Praxus for a vorn had only just started here, the underground movement not yet enrapturing all of the citizens. It would take this city longer to fall, longer to succumb to the tyranny that Megatron was planning.

The four bots hid in the beginning of the tunnel, the shadows cloaking them. The four pairs of optics ignored the violence, the brutality of the streets. Instead they searched for the best route from where they were to the Iacon academy who's walls kept the violence out and offered a safe haven.

Octane Racer started moving first, slipping out of the tunnel and walking swiftly to the alleyway across from them. Starscream ushered Prowl and Ratchet after her before following himself. They kept their helms down as they walked through the open ground, ensuring that attention wouldn't be brought to them.

None of the bots involved in the riots looked up and the group made it safely to the alleyway where the darkness once again encompassed them. The four bots continued through the streets in this way, working steadily closer to the fortress that was the academy.

At one point they passed by Prowl's old house, the place ablaze with lights. Out the front some of the rioters stood, drinking high grade with practiced ease. None of the technicians or engineers could be seen there but the black mech with the vibrant blue chevron.

Fear coursed through Prowl but he continued on with the group, ensuring to keep his optics down and doorwings in a submissive position. So long as the mech didn't recognise him they would be fine, they would get to the academy.

The black mech looked around the building, something feeling off. His instincts were always on high alert and now he pushed his sensor net as far as it could go. There was a group of four bots off to the right, walking submissively into another alleyway, much like the one they had come from. Nothing stood out about them, they were simply another group of citizens avoiding the riots.

'They will eventually understand the greatness of Megatron,' the mech thought, confident in the ability of the gladiator.

Prowl vented much more easily once he was safely in the next alleyway. The mech's sensor net had ghosted over his own and it had beeen a struggle to keep his own neutral. The blue chevroned doorwinger was obviously just checking the perimeter of the building, lazily. It was just lucky that he hadn't been in a bad mood and decided to set the other mechs on them. Continuing on Prowl put the incident behind him, keeping up the flawless façade of being submissive.

The walls of the academy loomed over the four mechs, offering a sanctuary for them from the riots and violence of the streets. The tops of the buildings within could just barely be seen over the walls. From the outside it looked oppressive, a deceiving appearance.

Starscream led them around the back to a secret entrance. There stood Jazz, obviously alerted to their arrival within the city. His visor was dimly lit but brightened slightly when he spotted the four bots.

"Did'ya have any troubles?" Jazz asked Octane Racer as he opened the gate into the fortress.

"Nope, pretty easy operations if you ask me," she replied, lingering by the black and white mech as the others filed inside.

Jazz closed the gate behind them once they were all inside before leading them over to one of the main buildings. Within the imposing walls of the academy the atmosphere was uplifting. The buildings were brightly coloured, seats were placed around the courtyard offering the students a place to sit.

"Optimus is goin' ta want ta see ya's now that yah're here," Jazz said as he showed them in to the building.

The room was brightly lit, the reception desk in good repair. Nothing was drab, a major change from the buildings in Praxus. There was no one at the desk, obviously in recharge. No one else was in the room, chairs lined a wall and electronic posters covered the room.

Pedesteps could be clearly heard coming towards the group, heavy pedesteps. A large frame filled the left entrance to the reception, light glinting off the blue and red on the chassis.

"It is good to see that you have both arrived safely. Thanks Octane, Star." Optimus said, dismissing the two bots.

Jazz stayed with Prowl and Ratchet as they walked over to the large mech. Jazz was at ease with the blue and red mech while Ratchet wasn't all that formal either. For Prowl it was easy to tell that they knew the mech on a more casual level. The black and white doorwinger ensured that his doorwings were pulled tight and high on his back. His helm was elevated slightly so that he could easily meet the Prime's optics.

"Good to see you too Prime," Ratchet said, posture casual.

"It is a pleasure to meet you my Prime," Prowl said, dipping his head in acknowledgement of the power the mech held.

"No need for such formalities here," Optimus said, "Shall we take this into my office where we can be more comfortable?"

Jazz didn't resond, instead he just turned and headed down the hallway to the Prime's office. Optimus just smiled before following behind Jazz, obviously used to the casualness between them.

The office wasn't that far down the hallway, door opened wide. Inside it wasn't all that large, large enough that a few people could come in for a meeting but small enough that it wasn't overbearing. A desk was on one side of the room and there was an array of chairs in the rest of the room.

The Prime gestured to the more informal seats before sitting down himself. The large mech's demeanor was calm, peaceful almost. Inside this room it seemed as though there was no war, that the world was still without conflict. Of course a bot could tell that the mechs in the room had seen a great many things related to conflict. The Prime's optics held great gravity within them while Jazz's frame held two obvious weapons.

Prowl's frame held it's own weaponry, although not quite as war like as Jazz's it certainly showed off some fire power. Ratchet's frame clearly showed that he was a medic and a field medic at that. There war was always there but sometimes it was more easy to get away from it than at other times.

"What brought you here Prowl?" the large red mech asked after they were all seated.

"I believe that my usefulness within Praxus was coming to a close and that I could better assist the Autobots from somewhere outside the city," Prowl answered easily.

"I see. We do have a lack of tacticians currently out in the delta sector. Would you be willing to be posted out there?" the Prime asked.

"I cannot forsee any issue with that arrangement," the black and white mech answered, somewhat unnerved by the large mech's blue optics boring into his own.

"You will need to perform at your best as we are losing too many mechs. These riots are just getting worse and I cannot fathom how Cybertron will right herself within a vorn." Optimus sighed, the outcomes of the current unrest disturbing him greatly.

"I will do my best at whatever task I am given, that you can be sure of," Prowl announced, hoping the statement would offer the mech some comfort.

The other two mechs in the room so far had kept quiet, allowing to the conversation to play out as it would.

"Prime, we need to make sure there is an adequate medic out in that sector as Prowl's battle computer is causing him some issues," Ratchet added.

"I have taken that into consideration. We do not currently need any more medics here or at any of our other large city bases but the Delta sector's last medic was only just targeted in one of the riots. We need a medic out there and you were our first option. Do you have any issues with being stationed out there?" Optimus said, hating the fact that he was having to send mechs out to places where they would be even less safe than in the city. It just didn't seem all that fair.

"No issues with that Prime," Ratchet answered, shooting a subtle glance over to Jazz.

The mech had been inerringly quiet throughout the whole meeting, sitting quietly and amazingly still. Usually the saboteur was the life of any meeting, formal or otherwise. Here though, he hadn't so much as muttered, his optics focused ont he ground the whole time.

Inside Jazz was upset, he hated the idea of being split from Prowl yet again. Last time he had been forced to leave the doorwinger behind, simply because of the situation. When they were younglings Prowl had left but now there shouldn't have been any real reason for them not to be able to be together on a base. Able to rekindle their friendship.

At least that's what Jazz hoped would happen if they actually got to talk alone, without all the interference these other mechs offered. On later thought the saboteur realised that the other mech was most likely angry with him or at least hurt by the realisation that Barricade had been a disguise, a mask.

"Jazz, could you please show Prowl and Ratchet to their rooms for the remainder of the night cycle?," Prime asked Jazz before turning to the other two, "The next shuttle to the Delta sector won't leave here for at least two orns. I will send someone to get you when it is ready to leave."

Prowl nodded his head slightly before standing from his seat. A small bow and he was following Jazz out of the room. Ratchet followed in a much less formal manner. A nod of his head and then the red and white mech strode out of the room, protocol forgotten.

The black and white mech had thought that he was annoyed with Jazz, infuriated with him. Of course he wasn't showing it and didn't bother attempting to analyse the emotion with his battle computer, it would just result in a lock up. However he wasn't really bothered by the saboteur's prescence although his spark was still racing every time the mech came close to his chassis.

He eliminated anger as one of the emotions that he could have been relating to the black and white mech. Obviously that still left a wide scope of emotions, probably some he had never even heard of. The next ones to double check would be envy, sadness and hate. Logically it would take a while before he would figure out which of those emotions could be crossed of the mental list.

The walk through the fortress didn't take all that long. The rooms were not far from the center reception and office building. They were situated on the second floor, quite close to eachother. Jazz left Ratchet outside his door before walking Prowl down to his new room.

The two mechs waited outside the door to the room, in the middle of the hallway. Both bots seemed nervous, standing there together. Prowl's doorwings flickered back and forth slightly, giving little irritated twitches while Jazz just rocked slightly on his pedes.

"Ah, this is yahr room Prowler. Ah'm sorry for havin' ta leave ya on yahr own in Praxus. 'Twas just mah mission ya see. Ah hope ya can forgive meh Prowler," Jazz said, optics focused persistently on the ground.

"It is fine Jazz, I am not annoyed with you. I shall see you around," Prowl replied as he turned and stepped into his quarters, Jazz's optics not leaving the floor for a second.

Inside Jazz's feelings were in turmoil. He hated that he had let Prowl down and now the mech obviously hated him. It didn't matter what the doorwinger had said, he knew that the mech regretted the friendship they had formed. There was a voice, in his spark or in his processor he didn't know, that was telling him that it was ruined, that he was a failure in the optics of the only mech he had really looked up to.

Jazz had looked up to his creators, of course, just like every other youngling. He admired the Prime and the way he dealt with situations. He was amazed at some of the things Octane Racer could do but he had always, always looked up to Prowl. That first day at the orn care he had immediately locked on to the isolated black and white youngling. While Prowl had still been at the orn care he had been Jazz's shining light, the perfect bot. That one orn hadn't changed that view, instead Prowl had become the reason he had tried to hard to go to the academy, to actually do something with the opportunities he was given.

The saboteur glanced at the locked door to Prowl's quarters before lifting his helm and continuing down the hallways. Rolling his shoulders back he vowed that Prowl would be his friend again, eventually. It didn't matter what it would take, but they would be friends again.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading this chapter! Two reviews before I update again and don't forget to check the poll on my profile. What do you think is going on with Prowl's emotions?<p> 


	17. Arriving at Delta Sector

Hey Everyone! Here is Chapter 17 and I certainly hope you enjoy it. It's over 3k so you've certainly got at least a little bit to read. This story has some of the longest chapters I've ever written. This story has now reached 30 reviews! Well done to SunnySidesofBlue who was the 30th reviewer, you've scored yourself some highgrade. :D We got three reviews for that last chapter, WOOT! You can still go vote on the poll, I will be taking it down at the end of this weekend as that is when I shall start my writing.

KenKen: Review every chapter if you want, I always love feedback. :D I'm so glad that this is one of your favourite stories and I hope that it continues to be. If you want to get to know a little more about Octane Racer she's also over in my fic "To the Academy and Beyond" which is following Jazz, Octane, Starscream etc. in their years at the Academy. The black bot? Well, you've seen him before...In one of our much earlier chapters.

That's all for this Author's note. Two reviews and then the next chapter can go up. Admittedly, after the next chapter I have nothing written and you can blame being sick and not having my plan for that. :( Plan shall be retrieved from locker (at school) as soon as I am better. :D (sometime this week).

* * *

><p>Prowl and Ratchet had spent three orns in Iacon awaiting their shuttle before moving out to Delta Sector. The red and white medic had socialised with the bots there, already well known by most. Iacon had been where he trained and did his first work as a medic.<p>

Prowl however, had kept to himself within his quarters. No one really stopped by, other than Ratchet. He sat with the lights dimmed, leaning back on the wall next to the berth. By now Creator Three must have known he was gone and was most likely in a major fit of rage. Really, it was amazing no one had managed to track him down yet.

The black and white mech ferverently hoped that he wouldn't be found any time in the near future. Really, it would be good if his creator never bothered to locate him, the consequences at any point in time would be devastating.

The tactician started to doubt his decision. Was it really the right choice, coming here? If creator three came looking for him the others he interacted with would be injured. The situations that could arrise weren't ideal. Of course there was no point in regretting the decision now, it had already been made. He would just have to make sure that no one else got hurt, other than him, if his creator made an appearance.

The black and white doorwinger had left his room in order to get energon but that was about it. Every time he made an appearance anywhere he would be the center of glares or mutters. The mechs were obviously wary of him, the doorwings held stiffly upon his back being a shining beacon. They almost seemed to sing "I am Praxian and that is where this fuss was endorsed by the enforcers." Prowl found himself with unusual emotions, ones he couldn't identify every time they muttered something obscene about him.

Did they really all think that every Praxian had wanted this? Had they thought that everyone knew what was going on? To Prowl it was uncomprehendable, the way the mechs were acting. Admittedly the enforcer sign on his chassis easily pinned him as one of the hated group, on of the mechs that had helped this to happen.

The mechs didn't know, didn't really understand what it had been like within Praxus for vorns. None of them had seen what was below the beautiful facade put on for every visitor. Each and every mech and femme here thought that Praxus had been a perfect city, standing proud against the skyline. The thought that such a high standing city had endorsed such acts of unlawfulness shocked them all.

Prowl ignored the mutters, the looks as he only had to put up with them for the short, oh so short journey, from his temporary quarters to the recreation room to get some energon. At times Ratchet would try to quell the chatter, the hatefulness against the doorwinger but it never did much good. Prowl just continued on, awaiting the orn when they were to be taken to Delta sector.

When the orn came there wasn't much fuss, it was very straight forward. Ratchet and Prowl boarded the small shuttle along with a few other bots bound for other locations along the way. Essentially the shuttle was doing a milk run, dropping everybot where they needed to go.

Delta sector headquarters was the last stop on the journey, the place where the shuttle would be refuelled, loaded and then sent back again. Each and every docking at the different locations had been perilous, the rioters there targeting the floating obstruction.

The headquarters weren't all that large despite the amount of trouble in the far out, expansive sector. The majority of bots here had been for Megatron and his ideals. Most making their living off of the gladiator rings and the business associated with it. This sector was where all of the well to do mechs came to waste their credits and get a taste of the illegal society. Here, no one cared about your ranking, your status. The only thing that mattered was the amount of credits you had on you at any one point in time.

Both Ratchet and Prowl only gained a glimpse of the barren wasteland, littered with ravines, as they were taken inside the base. The headquarters here was an integral part of the plan to quell the uprisings and violence associated with them, or so the command element thought. Really, it wouldn't do much, that much Prowl was sure of. Whoever had thought it a good idea to establish a department here clearly didn't understand what was going on.

There had always been violence in this area, unrest common across every little town. The riots in the larger cities had just accentuated the ones in this sector. Anything done here wouldn't have a great affect, instead it would just be a waste of time and talent of the bots stationed there.

The inside of this base was well lit and fairly clean. Corridors were wide and tall, catering for mechs and femmes of all designs. The hallways were fairly empty when Prowl and Ratchet arrived, a few bots wandering around but most either on duty or in the recreation room.

The mech who met them at the docking station was named Kup. The mech wasn't all that old but not all that young either. He had an aura of experience and gave off some very strong waves of disdain in Prowl's direction.

"Prime told me you to were coming. I assume you're Ratchet and you're Prowl," the mech said gesturing to them each in turn.

"Yes, that is correct," Prowl acknowledged as he followed the commander of the station down the hallways.

"We'll stop by the infirmary first as we desperately need you in there Ratchet. We've been struggling under continuous waves of injured bots here and we don't have anywhere near the staff needed to managet he situation. Tehn I'll take you to the command deck Prowl as you will need to be introduced to the head of tactical here so that you can begin your training."

The comment made Prowl somewhat angry. This mech thought that he hadn't done any tactical planning before, that he wouldn't know what he was doing. It hurt to have such a mech think that he had no clue about any of this, despite the fact that he had just come from a position where he was in charge of massive tactical operations. It wasn't like the Autobots didn't know he had a battle computer, Jazz was well aware of the fact just like Ratchet was.

A glance at Ratchet found that the medic must have been thinking along the same lines as the doorwinger. "Prowl doesn't need to be trained. He's already gone through the enforcer academy over in Praxus and he has a very advanced battle computer. I don't see why you don't just put him straight to work."

Kup shot a sharp look at Ratchet, one full of meaning. "We don't know if he is trustworthy therefore he is going to be trained under one of our tactical mechs who has been working here for a couple of vorns. That way Prowl will be monitored and we can ensure that he isn't a spy or anything for the enforcers," Kup said bluntly, right in front of Prowl.

To Prowl the assumption made sense but even then it hurt. He had been helping them for vorns, he just hadn't actually been with them while doing it. How did this mech think they got some of the information needed for some of their tactical plans? Seriously, this mech didn't know much outside of this base.

It was easy to tell when they had reached the infirmary. Bots lined the corridors, leaning back against the walls with their pedes out in front of them. Most of the bots were in recharge or powered down leaving their optics dimmed. Shouts punctuated the air, orginiating from the medical bay. Somewhere a mech whimpered, the anguish easily distinguished.

Ratchet immediately left the other two to run into the medical bay to lend a hand. Inside the room was even worse than hallway. Energon was dripping off of the berths and onto the stained floor. Dried energon was everywhere, mixed in with the fresh life liquid. Two medics circulated throughout the room, severely understaffed. A would-be trainy medic was off on his own, owrking hard to stem the flow of energon from a severely wounded femme.

Ratchet went over to a different patient, a chassis coloured bright red. The mech's shoulder was fully crumpled, his optics fritzing. Sparks flew from the exposed wiring while energon streamed out from the main energon line in his neck. Right beside the red mech was a yellow mech, his warrior chassis easily distinguishable in a sea of civilian bots. Digits were twined together as the golden mech's optics darted around the room.

The golden warrior growled wordlessly as the red and white medic approached, clearly unhappy with someone touching the red mech. Ratchet persisted in his effort to get to the red mech, it paid off. The yellow warrior let the red and white mech get to the injured chassis. With a stream of muttered profanities Ratchet started to work on the frame, working frantically to stabilise him.

Prowl recognised the yellow warrior, slighty older than when he had last seen him but still generally the same. The mech had never seemed all that youthful when Prowl had last seen him. The yellow warrior was one of the bots who had come to get Barricade and leave the city. The red mech on the berth must have been hsi twin, the one who had come to the unit headquarters with him.

The two didn't look all that different. their frames were heavier, more suited to battle. Their old chassis had been robust but also very much youngling frames. These frames were ones of fully grown mechs, outfitted with strong, durable weapons suited to close combat.

Kup turned away from the medical bay, walking off towards the command center. Prowl followed closely, ready to get on with his duty and prove to this crotchety and paranoid mech that he was very much trustworthy and experienced in tactical planninig. Hopefully the person he would be "training" under wouldn't be too much hassle, or too paranoid.

It wasn't Prowl's lucky orn as Smokescreen was the first bot he saw within the tactical division room. The mech who had been his team leader at the enforcer academy fixed him with a cool, detached look, so blatantly obvious that he couldn't care less about Prowl. His optics though had a spark of interest, the only thing animated about the bot.

It annoyed the black and white mech that he would once again have to serve under Smokescreen. The mech hadn't been all that brilliant the first time round and Prowl didn't really hold much hope for him to be all that much better now.

"So this is the mech who I will be training. We won't need introductions as I already know Prowl," Smokescreen said, not letting Kup say anything after entering the room.

"That's good, I'll leave him here with you then," Kup said aloud before opening up a com. link to the tactician :Make sure he doesn't do anything suspicious. If he does anything then com. me.:

:You got it Kup:

Prowl saw the two mech's optics dim, giving away their silent conversation. The black and white mech cycled air quietly, already fed up with being stationed at this base.

"So Prowl, you came to the Autobots. I guess you're just following in my glorious footsteps," Smokescreen said as Kup left them alone.

The tactical center was set up with multiple monitors, all working at a fast enough speed to allow for good, cohesive tactical planning. Each of the monitors held advanced tactical software, nothing as advanced as Prowl's battle computer but still advanced for anything that wasn't experimental.

"Just go over to that monitor and I'll send it some of the stuff I need you to work on. Shouldn't be too difficult for that dull processor of yours," Smokescreen said as he turned back to his monitor and ignored Prowl.

The black and white mech went over to the monitor and took a look at the screen. The data he needed was there, sitting right in front of him. The plan would be simple to create, simply because the data was some that he had supplied the Autobots with. He had made the original plan in the first place and put intentional holes in it.

Instead of using the monitor Prowl just started putting the data through his battle computer. the tactical asset worked at three times the speed of the computer bank, sorting through everything easily. The plan, in it's original form immediately came to the forefront of his processor. Picking it out the black and hite doorwinger set a quick analysis on it and came up with the next plan. Sending the plan tot eh computer Prowl opened it up and sent it through to Smokescreen.

In turn more data was sent his way, more of his own data. Seeing that this would be a recurring pattern Prowl pulle up all of his old reports regarding this sector and started working hsi way through the plans leaving his computer monitor blank. If anyone had bothered to look at the screen they would have seen nothing and probably gotten extremmely angry with him. However, he was doing even more work than Smokescreen who was unfocused and comming someone on the base.

Prowl's shift ended late in the orn and no one was around to show him to the quarters he would be in. Without knowing his way around the base the black and white mech decided to just remotely hack the command network to find out the layout of the base. The data was easy to find and download.

The doorwinger headed straight for the recroom to collect some energon. Walking into the room was somewhat unnerving, all of the mechs their fixing their optics on his Praxian frame. Most of the bots there were warrior class mechs, heavy armour and large weaponry. None of it particularly bothered Prowl, he had fairly strong armour and knew how to handle himself against Creator Three. Really, these mechs would be no where near as hard to battle with as his creator.

Grabbing his energon cube Prowl turned to leave. He recognised no one in the room, everyone unknown. However Smokescreen was hidden at the back of the large area, wondering how his previous team mate managed to get the room. No one had shown him where to go and he hadn't been given a plan of the base.

Optics narrowed as he watched the doorwinger leave the room and head into the hallways.

It was a little more simple hacking for Prowl to get his room allocation. Finding the room however was a slightly larger challenge. The plan was an old one, not updated when the base had been upgraded. The new wings, such as where Prowl was to be staying weren't included.

There was no one to help him find his way around base, not that Prowl wanted anyone to help him. Really it just would have been nice not to have been glared at everywhere he walked. Ratchet was nowhere to be seen, most likely still in the medical bay working on the injured bots.

It turned out that the whole base was understaffed, from the tactical division to the medical division, no one had enough mechs to fulfull their duties. Really there just wasn't enough trained bots for all of the open slots. Prowl figured he was lucky in some ways to actually have the skills needed to help out.

The hallways just kept winding on as the black and white mech continued aimlessly down them. Eventually he would get close to his quarters for his stay here, it was really just a matter of time. The energon he had consumed would last him a decent amount of time with his battle computer dormant as it currently was.

As he turned a corner Prowl ran straight into a mech. His doorwings hadn't sensed any movement so he was thoroughly stunned when his faceplates ended up in a mech's chassis. The chassis was bright yellow, covered in small scratches but a brilliant finish none the less.

"Watch where you're going Praxian," the mech growled as he pushed past Prowl.

The yellow mech hesitated once he had pushed passed the doorwinger. Turning around he took a good look at the chassis.

"Hey, you're that mech from Praxus, the one from the enforcer division where Jazz was," he said as he recognised the black and white frame.

"Uh, yes," Prowl replied as he also recognised the mech he had run into.

"Jazz was talking about you for ages after we left, he was real upset about the idea that you might not trust him again. Have you talked to him since? Because if you haven't I can go set up a communication channel for you!" the warrior said, looking excited to meet Prowl.

"I have talked to him since you all left Praxus. I did not realise he was so upset at leaving. I am stationed here for the moment though so you shall be seeing quite a bit of me I assume," Prowl replied, wondering why this mech was suddenly so chirpy. It didn't really fit with his character.

"Oh, cool. I'll have to get Sideswipe to come and meet you as well, he really wants to meet you. Do you need a hand finding your way around base? No one has been assigned to show you around base, pretty much because no one seems to trust you at the moment," the warrior said, enthusiastic about the idea of showing the tactician around the base.

"It would be helpful if you could show me where the sixth wing is as I need to find my quarters," Prowl replied, thankful that he would be able to get to his quarters faster than expected thanks to the chance encounter.

The yellow mech nodded as he turned and walked down the hallway to their left. "They always put the new mechs in our corridor, not exactly sure why. Most likely it's because of Sideswipe and all of his pranks. I guess they figure that it would be a good judge of character for anyone coming onto the base."

As the mech continued talking away Prowl wondered what had gotten into the yellow warrior. Only earlier he had been growling over the red chassis, holding tightly to the limp red servo. Now here he was, chatting away and acting pretty hyper. Seemed a little odd to Prowl.

The black and white mech memorised the corridors he was walking down, ensuring that he would know where to go in future. There was an odd little doorway that they had to open to enter the appropriate hallway, one Prowl most likely wouldn't have found without help. Who hid corridor entrances with a normal door? Certainly unusual for the Autobot bases.

Sunstreaker led the way cheerfully, almost bouncing on his pedes with each step. By now Prowl realised that the mech must have been injured or drugged to be in his current state. The black and white doorwinger was almost hesitant to let the yellow mech continue on to whereever he had been planning to go.

"And this is your room!" Sunstreaker exclaimed with flourish, servo gesturing to the appropriate door.

"Thank you. I hope to see you around the base..." Prowl said, trailing off when he realised he didn't know this mech's designation.

"Sunstreaker, the designation is Sunstreaker," the yellow twin said chirpily.

"Okay then Sunstreaker. I shall see you next orn some time," Prowl answered as he turned to enter his quarters.

"I'll bring Sideswipe to see you! Bye Prowl!," Sunstreaker called as he turned and sauntered his way down the corridor.

Prowl stepped in the room, unsurprised by its small size. There were two berths within the room, pressed up against opposite walls. The left berth was set up, trinkets on the shelf above it. this left Prowl to assume he would be on the other berth, to the right.

There was no dust anywhere in the room, the other occupant obviously looking after everything here. It calmed Prowl to know that the other mech or femme wasn't all that slobbish. Still, the last time he had to share quarters didn't end well. Obviously someplace would have to be found where Prowl could be assured that no one would find him in case of a battle computer crash.

Walking over to the berth the black and white doorwinger perched himself of the edge of it, continuing his observation of the room. The left side of the area was somewhat untidy, odds and ends in seemingly random places on the floor around the berth. Admittedly the occupant had obviously cleaned up the room for Prowl to arrive.

This made the tactician curious as to who his room mate would be. He hadn't been told who it would be and the listings on the base computer didn't give anything away. Really, he would just have to wait and see who would turn up. It was already quite late so maybe the other occupant had a night cycle shift, or they were quite social.

* * *

><p>Did you like the chapter? I certainly hope you did. What do you think was going on with Sunstreaker? He certainly was acting normally.<p> 


	18. Room Mate

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter 18 which follows straight on from Chapter 17. I'm loving some of the answers to my question about Sunny and I shall wait until the next chapter to let you all know what the answer is. There has been one totally correct answer and one that was really close so good work. NineCrow, here is your chapter that you have been waiting for since chapter 14 or 15.

I am no longer ahead with my chapters as I haven't written in a week due to being really quite sick and off school. My plan is in my locker at school so I didn't even know where I was going in the next chapter. Hopefully I'll be at school tomorrow and I'll get my plan so that I can continue writing. The earliest my next chapter can be posted is Tuesday because I have after school activities tomorrow. There is only a week until I leave on my seven week trip so there isn't much time for me to get some more chapters up. However it is December and I'm doing NaNoFiMo so the goal is to write 30,000 more words for this story and hopefully finish it although it will probably take around 50k to actually finish it. Why do I have this feeling that Wednesday night will be a late one?

Have fun reading everyone!

KenKen: *thinks of black mech and shivers* He's certainly a creeper and I have no idea how my brain came up with him. Then again he's crucial to the plot so he has to stick around. Kup and them just don't understand which is a real pity if you ask me. Jazz will be giving lots of cuddles...at a later stage in the story. I mean, the JazzxProwl has to kick in at some point right? Ratchet will certainly be supportive of Prowl, in his own unique way. The twins will also be pretty supportive of Prowl, if only for Jazz. Then again, a certain medic seems to have caught their optics...(only occurred to me the other day that we could have some TwinsxRatchet in here or the sequel).

* * *

><p>"Do you know who my new roommate is Huffer?" Cliffjumper asked as he walked with his companion down the hallways.<p>

Cliffjumper himself was fairly new to the base but he had settled in extremely well. The black and red minibot had immediately fitted in with the rest of the minibots on base. Huffer was just one of his new friends in the Delta Sector headquarters.

"I don't really know but there is that new Praxian on base. Apparantely he kills people in their recharge and he's a spy for the enforcers," Huffer whispered conspiratorially.

"If he's been put in my room he won't be killing me in my recharge. I can take him and any other spies out with ease," Cliffjumper claimed as they continued down the corridor.

Stopping outside his door Cliffjumper said goodbye to Huffer before entering his room. The minibot let his optics sweep over the room and was annoyed to find that the Praxian was indeed the bot sharing his room.

"Hello, I assume you are the other occupant of this room. My designation is Prowl and I have just moved to this base," Prowl said, introducing himself in the formal way he had been taught.

"I don't give a frag who you are. I know that you're a spy but there is no way you'll be able to kill me in my recharge. Don't even think about it because I will offline you," Cliffjumper snarled as he sat himself down on his berth.

"-" Prowl sat there hurt. To think that all of the mechs on base, bar Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, thought he was a spy hurt him deeply. Yes he had doorwings, yes he had come from Praxus but that didn't mean that he was a spy. So what if he had worked for the enforcers, Smokescreen had too and he wasn't being treated this way.

An unfamiliar sting behind his optics had Prowl shuttering them multiple times in quick succession. His vents whirred slightly as they tried to drag in air at a slightly faster rate. The black and white mech's battle computer started to try to figure out the illogical conclusion (to Prowl anyway) that the other mechs on base had come up with.

Cliffjumper didn't look over at the Praxian he was sharing a room with, focusing instead on trying to get comfortable to go into recharge. Shifting the clutter on his berth onto the floor he laid down and shuttered his optics. The minibot missed the lone energon tear which leaked down Prowl's face plates.

Prowl saw the minibot lay down after shoving his stuff onto the floor roughly. The other mech's words had upset him greatly so he was glad that the other bot had shuttered his optics. Prowl's battle computer started to shut down it's calculations and data analysis as it couldn't come to a conclusion.

The black and white frame started to shake and rattle. Cliffjumper never looked up, never onlined his optics to see what was going on. The black and red mech was listening to a melody within his processor, audio receivers switched off to outside noises.

Doorwings fell from their regal position on Prowl's back as he curled into a ball on his berth. Arms wrapped around his legs as his chevron was lent against his knee joints. The rattle of his chassis filled the room with noise. The battle computer started to lock up, causing the black and white frame to jerk each time it locked up.

Trying to control his limbs wouldn't work, that much the Praxian knew. Allowing his battle computer to run it's course he sat there, shaking and hating the way he felt. He was still conscious of what was going on but he had no control over himself whatsoever, it scared him to be like this.

Prowl tried to steer his battle computer onto the right track, to get it thinking about some sort of tactical plan. It was just so hard to keep it on that track when Prowl's spark wanted to wallow in the emotions. Without someone, such as Barricade there to keep him on the right track as he fed the battle comptuer data he kept giving it the wrong things to compute.

The black and white mech didn't even notice when the door to his room opened harshly, too caught up into the battle computer lock. Ratchet rushed into the room and straight over to Prowl, cursing the whole time. A wrench flew from his grip and collided with Cliffjumper's helm, thoroughly startling the mech.

Ratchet had hooked up a miniature alarm to Prowl when he had been looking at his processor. This way he would know when the mech was having a battle computer fritz and he wasn't letting anyone know. The mech was stubborn, that was for sure and there was no way he would go searching for medical help in a fritz.

The other occupant of the room though, he should have alerted a medic when Prowl had gotten this bad. It truly wasn't that hard to com. the medical bay to let them know that someone was in a bit of a situation. Then again, it was probably that mech who had started the whole thing anyway.

The red and white medic placed his servos either side of Prowl's helm and looked into the mech's unfocused optics. "Prowl, I need you to open the data packet I'm going to send through to you, okay?"

Ratchet didn't expect a reply as he sent through the data packet filled with equations and random data he could find. There was a mission outline in there for Prowl to calculate the probabilities for, hopefully this wwould quell the lock down.

Prowl heard Ratchet, even though he was so unfocused. He opened the data packet as soon as it came through, hoping it would be something useful. As this was Ratchet that was sending it through undoubtedly it would help. Opening the data packet the black and white datsun let his battle computer lock onto the new data and equations.

The pressure in his helm started to subside, to fade away as he locked his emotions behind a barrier, stronger than the one he had put up as a youngling. It probably wouldn't hold all that long but it should hold long enough to be helpful anyway. The Praxian made a mental note to rebuild the wall every two orns so that it would remain strong. Maybe it would do something to stop these horrid battle computer glitches.

"You back with me Prowl?" Ratchet asked as the mech's optics brightened.

"Yes, thank you Ratchet. How did you know?" Prowl asked, curious as to how the medic had known to come to his aid.

"I added a miniature alarm, hooked up to my systems which alert me when you have a battle computer fritz," Ratchet said.

The black and white mech glared at the medic, royally pissed off that he would have done something like that without letting him know. To think that the medic would stoop as low as the technicians shook the tactician's trust in Ratchet.

"Don't glare at me like that Prowl! You probably would have had a full processor melt down if I hadn't gotten here when I did," Ratchet snarled, his temper disguising how scared he was for the other mech's life.

"You had no right and I would have been just fine," Prowl said indignantly, not wanting to believe the medic's words.

"What the slag? I was recharging!" Cliffjumper spat, pissed off that his new roommate was already causing trouble.

The outburst gave Ratchet another mech to take out his ire on. "You have no fragging reason to complain. I don't give a slag who you think you are but you should have alerted one of the medics when Prowl started freezing, the warning signs were certainly loud enough as I could hear Prowl's frame rattling from the corridor," the red and white mech yelled, frustrated with the minibot.

"I'm not his baby sitter and this just proves he has no place at this base. He's a fragging liability and I don't give a slag what you think. He can go rust in the pit for all I care," Cliffjumper objected, hiding his slight fear of the medic.

Ratchet clenched his denta in frustration before helping Prowl up from his berth and leaving the room. Staying there wouldn't have been helpful for the tactician and it certainly wasn't going to be beneficial for the minibot. The stupidity of some mechs just couldn't be measured and that red and black minibot was one of the stupidest.

Now there was the issue of where he was taking the black and white bot. The med bay was full of patients and nowhere near clean at that point in time. Ratchet still didn't know where his own quarters were so that wasn't an option either. Luckily for the two of them Sunstreaker turned up in the hallway, this time fully intoxicated, traces of high grade around his lip plates.

"Where are you two above average mech's doing down this way?" Sunstreaker slurred, walking perfectly fine for being intoxicated. His optics were still alert, looking perfectly fine.

Prowl's helm was aching, causing him to be slightly unfocused. Most likely Sunstreaker was seeing the world in a better light than him because his processor was certainly topsy turvy enough for him to be intoxicated.

Ratchet just growled under his vents, not allowing the golden warrior to hear him. "I need to go somewhere to do a check up on Prowl and his quarters are full."

"Why don't ya both jus' come wit' me to my quarters 'cause sides ain't there," Sunstreaker said, an accent coming out now that he had consumed so much high grade.

"Sounds good enough for me," Ratchet replied, muttering under his breath as the two followed Sunstreaker.

For Ratchet it was easy to see that having Sideswipe doped up and kept under just wasn't going well for his twin. The yellow warrior had adopted many of the red twin's traits, obviously influenced by the bond. Making a note in his processor, Ratchet decided to either put both of the twins under at once or at least keep them together if either one was seriously damaged, this kind of outcome would only make the conscious twin do something reckless.

Prowl tried to make a sound of protest as he was dragged down the hallways, not wanting a fuss to be made. Any one of these bots could have a link to the enforcers or an important person back in Praxus. All his effort to get out of the city could be ruined if someone managed to tell Creator Three where he was and what was going on with his battle computer.

By now Creator three had to be out looking for him, although his sibling bond with SparkSoul hadn't been opened, even slightly, in a quest to find him. Obviously the femme thought he was safe or she was trying to protect him.

The hallways linked together in this part of the building were all the same, not helping the black and white mech's processor whatsoever. The doorwinger started up a continuous data stream into his battle computer which was once again trying to go on the fritz. Ever since Barricade, Jazz, Prowl reminded himself, had left Praxus his battle computer incidents were becoming more frequent and much more intense.

Luckily no one had found out although it had come pretty close, numerous times. When he had been shifted to the enforcer's headquarters he had been under close surveillance, especially when things started to go wrong. His training with Creator Three had finally held him in good stead.

No one had found out that he was sabotaging the missions but that didn't mean he escaped punishment. Everyone at the department was punished at some point in time, him just more often than the rest. Being new to the team meant he was at a great disadvantage and he was constantly getting beaten.

The worst thing was getting processor freezes for no reason whatsoever. His battle computer would just lock up at a random point in time, nothing illogical or emotional having happened. The increase in frequency meant that he would get them often, almost twice ornly. Really it was amazing he hadn't fritzed yet since he had met up with Ratchet.

Coming back to the present moment Prowl was dragged into a room, the door shutting behind him almost immediately. The quarters looked much like the ones he was in currently, only that this was smaller and the two berths were pushed together on one side of the room. There was nothing here, no ornaments, just like it had been at his place back in Praxus.

Sunstreaker sat himself down on the berth, pressed up into the corner. His optics watched Ratchet and Prowl warily as he sat curled up. The warrior was probably wary of them because he thought he might be attacked.

Prowl was pushed down to sit on the berth, on the opposite corner to sunstreaker. Ratchet didn't even say anything as he opened up Prowl's helm even more, the open vents helping him immensely. The black and white doorwinger shifted slightly, not exactly comfortable with the medic just opening up his helm and peering in.

"Slag!" Ratchet snarled as he got a good look at the black and white mech's processor.

Inside was worse than it had been back in Praxus. Most of the wires were sparking or melted through. You could see the steam coming off of his processor, the coolant inside heated rapidly. The battle computer was much the same, only the main wires linking it to the processor hadn't been melted and they weren't sparking, obviously the most reinforced conection within the helm.

It was carnage, literally. The inside of Prowl's helm looked like a battle field. Really, it needed to be totally rewired, the processor taken out and cleaned with the same treatment for the battle computer. The battle computer was most likely the source of the problem, Ratchet easily deduced this. It was normal for a bot to get a few sparking wires, a few melted connections when they had a battle computer for at least two deca-vorns without maintenance. This though, this was just off the chart.

"Ratchet, it is quite unnerving to have you muttering and snarling while you look into my helm, which is feeling very exposed by the way," Prowl spoke up, the length of time Ratchet had been peering into his helm annoying him.

Giving Prowl an icy look Ratchet responded, "How come you didn't tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Prowl asked, confused as to why the medic was pissed off at him, again.

"That your battle computer has been fritzing more and it was getting worse," Ratchet said calmly, the tone scarier than his yelling.

"I did not think to worry you and I am perfectly capable of looking after myself," Prowl responded, finally understanding why the medic was so mad.

"How many times to I have to tell you that when you need medical help you Primus well go looking for it? Not telling anyone just makes you a stupid fragger," Ratchet questioned.

"It is my problem and I did not think that I required medical attention as I have been coping just fine for the past few vorns," Prowl replied, lieing smoothly.

Ratchet had no response instead he just growled lowly, muttering curses intermittently. "I need to do a complete overhaul of your processor and battle computer otherwise your battle computer is just going to keep locking up and getting worse."

"I cannot afford the time it would take to do that. The firewalls I have just initiated will be sufficient to keep the lockups dulled and less frequent," Prowl responded, knowing that if Ratchet had to overhaul his processor and battle computer the news would travel around the base like fire. The chances of the news escaping to Creator Three would just increase exponentially.

Ratchet didn't like the response. The longer it was left the more damage would be done. Then again there was a look of fear deep down in the black and white doorwinger's optics. The bot himself probably couldn't tell what emotion he was feeling but it had to be linked to something. Giving in to the tactician Ratchet agreed to not performing the surgery although not until after he had rung a promise from the stubborn glitch.

The red and white medic left the twins' quarters not long after, not paying much attention to the golden twin and the way his optics were dulled but focused on him. The hallways were empty now but the medical bay would need some more help and Ratchet intended to go there. Really he should have been getting some recharge but without knowing where his quarters were there was really no choice in the matter. Never mind, he knew how to go without recharge and had done it often enough. Little did the medic know just how often he would have to skip out on his recharge in future vorns.

Prowl remained seated on Sunstreaker's berth, focused on engaging every firewall he had ever created. Along with existing firewalls he started to design new ones and put them into place. The more that were up and running the less chance there was of having a battle computer crash and having to alert Ratchet.

The black and white mech didn't really pay any attention to the mech in the corner of the berth, not until he heard the sobs echoing around the room. Brightening his optics Prowl looked over at Sunstreaker, energon tears staining his faceplates.

Although the situation wasn't the same Prowl knew that the mech needed some comfort. SparkSoul had been there for him so why couldn't he be there for this other mech? Not trying to find out the reason for the tears the doorwinger crawled across the berth so that he was sitting next to the other mech.

Hesitantly he reached out a servo and placed it on the yellow warrior's arm. The mech responded to the touch immediately, practically launching himself at the black and white mech. Prowl, thinking it was an attack stiffened his body, prepared for the blow. However the yellow frame just clung to him, servos gripping tightly at Prowl's chassis.

Arms wrapped around the mech, Prowl sat there quietly as the warrior continued to cry. The mech was mumbling something incoherently but the black and white mech payed no attention to the mutterings, just there to comfort Sunstreaker.

At some point Sunstreaker's crying subsided into soft hiccups, the energon tears staining his faceplates. It was now that Prowl could see just how young this mech still was. In some ways he was similar to Prowl. The black and white mech knew he was really a youngling, in all technicalitly. It was just his battle computer and subsequent frame updates that had caused him to be seen as a full mech. Really he was quite young, most likely the same age as Sunstreaker.

He probably should have been the same age as Jazz, especially considering they had joined the orn care at the same time. This wasn't right though, each youngling matured at different speeds and it was the same with aging. Due to the way his spark was formed, Prowl was aging much more slowly than Jazz or even Sunstreaker. It probably wouldn't be long until the black and white mech was the absolute youngest within the Autobots, especially considered there was very few bots younger than Sunstreaker and Sideswipe allowed to join up.

By now though, SparkSoul was probably younger than him, spark wise anyways. Her frame was much more advanced than his but her spark was undoubtedly younger than his. The ancients always matured much more slowly than anyone else. Every five decavorns was quite equivelant to one vorn of maturity for a normal mech.

Prowl sat there, rocking Sunstreaker side to side slowly. It was astonishing that he could shift the larger mech at all really, seeing as the larger frame should have been much heavier than his own. In reality it was probably the same weight as his own chassis, if not even lighter.

At some point his optics started to dim of their own accord, alerting Prowl to just how tired he was. Gently shifting Sunstreaker so that they were both laying down the black and white mech slipped into recharge, the yellow frame curled up to him. Sunstreaker laid there peacefully, calmed by the other frame so close to him. Prowl slipped into recharge, thoughts lingering on the one night cycle when SparkSoul had comforted him after a harsh training session.

* * *

><p>I hope you enjoyed the chapter! NineCrow, did you enjoy it? Sunstreaker crying? Anyone see that one coming?<p> 


	19. Setting a Date

Hey Everyone! Here is chapter 19 which I've managed to pull together in the last two days. I hope you all like it! Just ignore all those spelling errors and things that are in here... there are bound to be a lot after I wrote 2k very quickly yesterday. I'll get started on the next chapter in the next couple of days so I should have at least one more chapter to give you all before I head overseas.

SunnySidesofBlue you've just managed to score yourself some highgrade because you had the 40th review so well done! The twins' special brew or Jazz's? Your choice.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter and review and the end of it! Have a good read. :D

* * *

><p>Since the night cycle that had been spent in Sunstreaker and Sideswipe's quarters Prowl had been swamped with work. It seemed as though no one else in the tactical division did anything, including Smokescreen. Well, it was really more like no one on the whole base was doing anything whatsoever.<p>

Ratchet had been struggling under the load in the medical department especially when he had figured out that he was actually the most highly trained medic there. None of the others really wanted to learn and they were always slacking off and leaving most of the work to the red and white mech.

The area was becoming more and more hostile, mechs sent out on patrol almost always coming back injured or in some cases not coming back at all. The twins seemed to bear the most injuries, most likely because they were the only ones who actually went on their shifts.

Kup seemed to be highly biased when it came to work loads and disciplinary issues. Everyone on Kup's good side couldn't be blamed for anything and always got the easier jobs or more convenient shifts. Those that he didn't get along with such as the twins, Ratchet and Prowl would get long shifts at the most inconvenient times and then would be blamed for everything that went wrong.

If something went right at any point in time, even if these particular mechs were the ones to be credited, it would be the heads of the divisions which would be praised. There were others on the base that were also struggling under the unfair and unjust way the base was run. Even rations were split in a most unusual way. Half of the minibots were getting more energon than Sunstreaker or Sideswipe despite having smaller frames and performing much less arduous tasks.

For Prowl it was very much similar to being back at the Enforcer Academy. It had been the same there with Smokescreen always in charge of the team and playing favourites constantly. Prowl was used to not being one of the favourites and not getting anything other than what he needed to survive.

At some points in time the black and white mech wondered if he wouldn't have been better off staying in Praxus. The thought was always dismissed immediately as he knew that his creator had undoubtedly gotten worse over the vorns that Prowl had been gone.

Creator three was in Praxus, basking in his anger. His optics were dark with malice, a clear give away to just how riled up he was. The mech's anger had to have an outlet and any mech or femme that got to close would be that outlet. Creator Three would lash out randomly, no warning as to when he would lose his temper.

His perfect plan had been ruined by the one creation that had actually come online. Megatron would no longer take the mech as his tactician, not now that he was reportedly working for the Autobots. All that training for nothing and now Shockwave, the pitiful mech, would be the tactician for the Decepticons.

The silver mech had finally named the team that he was putting together. So far only the most trusted bots had been told about what was happening. Megatron desperately wanted to get the seeker's in on his plan, to bind them to the team and it's cause. The mighty flyers had yet to succumb to the gladiator's wishes and it was making him more volatile than usual.

A black mech with a blue chevron entered the room Creator Three was currently residing in, unafraid of the damage that could be dealt to his chassis.

"Have you found your precious little creation yet? Creator 1 is losing his patience with your incompetency," the mech sneered, frame as large as Creator Three's and much more sturdy.

"Not yet but it won't be long, I swear to Unicron," Creator three answered, a hint of fear in his voice.

"Personally I don't particularly care what the outcome is but I wouldn't mind having another taste of the little doorwinger, he was pretty good the first time round," the mech stated, turning to leave.

"If I find him you can have him if you want SparkTwister, he's no longer of any use to me," Creator Three replied as he watched the other mech leave the room.

The tension that had seeped into his frame from the moment SparkTwister had entered the room now fled from his frame, leaving him limp in his chair. Unsubspacing some black energon he took a long draught, contemplating who he could contact to find out where Prowl was and get him back.

Prowl was once again seated in the tactical office, optics fixed on all of the computer screens in front of him. There was data on pretty much everything flashing across all of the screens and straight into his battle computer via four hardline connections.

The black and white mech's doorwingers sat stiffly upon his back , giving away nothing to the other mechs in the room. Prowl was the only one working at that point in time, everyone else had knocked off, despite it only being halfway through their shifts.

The doorwinger's helm hurt atrociously but he couldn't really take a break, not with all of the work he had to get done. It seemed that Smokescreen had decided not to do any of his own work and instead gave it all to the junior tactician (according to Autobot records).

The workload was taking it's toll on Prowl, especially with the ever degrading battle computer within his helm. Although the mech didn't know it the reason he was having so much trouble with that piece of tactical equipment was because it hadn't been upgraded in vorns. Now, with everything that was going on there certainly wasn't even an upgrade that could be installed.

Prowl was ever wary of his creator and the attempts to find him. No one unusual or suspicious had turned up at the base yet but that didn't not calm the doorwinger's fears. One of the mechs or femmes on the base could have contact with Creator Three and it would just be a matter of time until he was dragged away, forcefully of course.

He was especially on guard after recognising the mech in Iacon. The blue chevroned mech had certainly seen him, and the others. Whether or not he recognised him or made the connection Prowl couldn't know. It was that fact which kept him worrying throughout each passing orn.

The pain in his helm was getting worse every orn. Ratchet had tried speaking to Smokescreen and the others in the tactical department to get them to give him less work but of course they didn't listen. No one was really listening to any of the newer mechs at the base which was extremely frustrating. Ratchet had taken to carrying multiple wrenches around and throwing them at anyone who decided to ignore his medical orders.

Sideswipe, who was now awake was pranking everyone who annoyed him or his twin. Sunstreaker, who was now pretty much back to normal would intentionally pick fights with those particular mechs or femmes. Prowl though, he hadn't found a way to deal with it like the others. He shut himself off from the rest of them, retreating back into the shell he had kept for so long.

No one on this base had ever seen him smile or really show much emotion. There were few exceptions to the rule, the main ones being Ratchet, Sunstreaker and of course Cliffjumper. The cool and calm facade the black and white mech kept up constantly meant that many of the bots on base never bothered to approach him or get to know him.

For Prowl this suited him just fine. He had never really been a social mech and the only people he had ever really interacted with were Ratchet and Jazz. Yes, he had talked with SparkSoul and the twins but he really hadn't said much to any of them. The saboteur and medic though, they had figured out a fair bit about him and the black and white mech felt at least somewhat at ease around them.

The black and white mech continued with his data analysis and sorting despite the agonising pain. His processor and battle computer were always running hot, most likely due to a lack of coolant despite the fact that Ratchet had only just refilled his coolant supplies a few orns ago.

The mechs in the room didn't notice as Prowl stiffened slightly, his battle computer sending him multiple warnings. The piece of tactical equipment was once again about to go on the fritz despite nothing actually happening to spurr one.

Making sure not to attract the attention of any of the other bots in the room, the doorwinger disconnected himself from the consol and retracted the hardlines he had been using. Stealing a glance over at the bots around the central table he made sure that none were looking his way before standing and slipping out the door.

Once in the corridor the black and white mech walked quickly, but quietly through the base, avoiding each of the cameras guarding the hallways. It was hard not to attract attention, especially considering most mechs were getting off shift and each walkway was filled with frames. Most of his usual places to hide for a battle computer crash would be in use by other mechs. There was really only one viable option and the doorwinger quickened his pace as he made his way towards the one abandoned hallway.

Even before he turned the corridor into the hallway he was aiming for Prowl knew it was in use. The sounds from the mechs there reverberated around the walls, moans and pants loud and frequent. In desperation the doorwinger fled those hallways and headed for the area where the twins' quarters were located. If the duty rosters were right the two of them would be out on a patrol and not in their quarters. Cliffjumper would be back in his own quarters so this really would be the last option for the black and white mech.

Already the wires inside Prowl's helm were starting to spark and he could barely concentrate on where he was going. It was difficult to stop his frame from shaking, from losing control of all of his relays. This wouldn't be a particularly bad crash, that much the Praxian framed mech knew, but it wouldn't do for someone to find out about his issue.

It was with relief that Prowl opened the door to the twins' quarters and flew inside. Throwing himself on the floor against one of the walls he curled up, knowing it would only be a matter of time until Ratchet would get there. The medic's alarm that he had rigged up worked amazingly well.

Letting all of his firewalls down Prowl succumbed to the wiles of his battle computer. The first thing he lost was the power to control his frame as it immediately began to quiver and shake. The vents on his helm slipped open allowing cool air to start cooling his processor and battle computer. The black and white mech's optics started to blink on and off as the circuit was shorted multiple times in quick succession.

Remotely Prowl heard the door slide open but didn't really pay it all that much attention, thinking it would be the medic. His optics wouldn't focus so he couldn't really see anything, not even the color of the frame which had stepped through the door.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had been in the medical bay after coming back from their patrol early. Not long into their patrol they had hit a bit of a road block, in the form of a mob of anti-Autobot mechs and femmes. Almost all of them had warrior class frames so the twins didn't have all that much over them, other than their refined battle skills.

The two mechs had returned to base in one piece but with a fair bit of damage to their frames. The medical bay was always full of injured bots so they knew they would have to wait for a while to get seen to but really they didn't mind, it gave them some time to watch the new medic who had caught their optics.

The twins arrived in the med bay just in time to see Ratchet stiffen slightly. No one else seemed to notice how the medic tensed up but the two front liners did, if only because they had been looking for the red and white mech.

"Hey Ratch, what's got your wires in a bundle?" Sideswipe asked, a cheeky grin on his faceplates.

"Nothing, except for you two hellions. Go wait over on one of those benches until I can see to you," the medic snarled as he continued to work on his patient's leg which was damaged.

"We saw you stiffen so what's the issue?" Sunstreaker questioned, lipplates almost touching the mech's audio receiver.

"Head to your quarters and com. me when you get there," Ratchet said softly, keeping what he said under an exvent. The words were so soft that the twins couldn't tell if he had actually said them. The look that the medic shot them spurred them into action and soon they were heading to their quarters.

Sunstreaker was the first one to walk through the door to their shared quarters, optics sweeping around the room. The astrosecond that he spotted Prowl he was across the room, kneeling in front of the curled up doorwinger. The mech looked like he had the night cycle when he had been taken back to the twins' quarters the first time.

Jazz had told them that they had to look out for Prowl and had even told them about his battle computer would go on the fritz sometimes. The saboteur obviously didn't know just how frequent these fritzes were or they had become more frequent over time. Sunstreaker pulled the doorwinger into his arms as Sideswipe shut the door and walked over to his twin and the black and white mech

Opening up a com. link to Ratchet Sideswipe relayed the situation.

:Ratchet, Prowl's all curled up on the floor and he's shaking like a leaf. I think he's having another of his battle computer fritzes. Sunstreaker is over with him but Prowl doesn't look like his battle computer is going to chill out for a while yet. Anything you want us to do?:

:Get Sunstreaker to talk about battle strategies and send Prowl a data packet full of equations, usually it gets him settled down. I'll be there when I can but that may not be for a while yet. When he comes out of it give him some energon as his systems will be pretty taxed.: With that Ratchet cut the connection and Sideswipe turned his attention back to the room.

Sunstreaker was already sending Prowl a data packet, having got the jist of the conversation through his twin bond. It seemed to help the doorwinger as the shaking of his frame started to subside and his optics stopped shorting out. The black and white mech's helm vents stayed open, puffs of steam occasionally rising from the equipment within.

Sideswipe joined his twin on the floor, arms joining the yellow ones already around the black and white frame. The red mech had a couple of cubes of energon in subspace from earlier that he could give the tactician when he got over the lock up completely.

When Prowl's optics stopped shorting the first thing he saw was the arms wrapped around his frame, two sets of them. Horrified he lifted his gaze to find Sunstreaker and Sideswipe either side of him, optics locked on his frame.

"Hey Prowl. Ratchet can't get out of the med bay at the moment and we decided to come investigate," Sunstreaker said as Sideswipe pressed an energon cube into the tactician's servos.

"I do not need an energon cube and I am quite functional. If you will excuse me I shall get back to my duties," Prowl said, voice not as strong as he wanted.

"Look, we know about your battle computer so you can chill out. Ratchet wants to make sure you're okay when he can get away from all of his patients so you'll be staying right here until he comes," Sideswipe said, strengthening his grip on the surprisingly sturdy frame.

Prowl decided to accept the cube of energon and sipped on it slowly. In some part of his processor he was enjoying having some attention on him, enjoying the touch of the two mechs. In the forefront of his processor he was indifferent to the touch. Emotions were blocked readily by the numerous firewalls he had pulled back into place the moment his processor stopped fritzing.

The firewalls were able to hold back the lock ups for only a certain amount of time, the battle computer finding ways around the defence system. It had become harder and harder for Prowl to come up with new walls to put into place after a fritz.

Ratchet burst in the door just after Prowl finished his energon cube, optics immediately narrowing on the black and white frame lounging between the two twins. Both of the frontliners scooted away from the doorwinger as Ratchet stalked over already unwinding a hardline connection cord, ready to do an assessment of Prowl's systems.

"Prowl, this has gone on for much too long we need to do a complete overhaul of the battle computer," Ratchet decided, as he linked up with the tacticians systems.

"No Ratchet, you know that will just increase the rumours around here and Creator Three could find me through the records in the archives. Every surgery you do is logged there and undoubtedly he has figured out that I'm with the Autobots. He must be scanning the archives for information on me, the second my designation is found there he'll be here," Prowl argued, his points well thought through.

"You can't keep on like this! What if Creator Three turns up anyway and you have a fritz in the middle of battle? You were working through tactical data today when your battle computer went haywire so who's to say that it won't do the same when you actually need it to be working properly?" Ratchet argued back, the points extremely logical as the battle computer was quick to point out.

Prowl didn't want to have to give in to the medic but the frequency of his little episodes was increasing and it just wouldn't do for the piece of equipment to go haywire on him at a crucial point in time.

"Fine Ratchet, I will let you rewire the battle computer but only if it's when the med bay is empty. I am not having some of those other, less reputable bots working on anything in my helmm," Prowl aquiesced, outlining his few requests.

"Orn after next at the night cycle. I'll be the only one on duty and these two warriors can keep a look out," Ratchet announced, his tone brooking no argument.

After disconnecting from the datsun's systems the medic gave a little sigh. The mech's systems were technically fine, other than a few anomaly read outs from his spark energy. The anomalies have been there for a while so it wasn't anything to really worry about now but the medic made a note to do a more thorough check up when he had the technician sedated in teh medbay.

Ratchet left without a word, leaving the twins and Prowl in the Twins' quarters in silence. The medic was undoubtedly hurrying away to the medial bay which was most likely full of patients again. It was a never ending stream of injured at this base and the job wasn't easy for the red and white mech. Already you could tell that he wasn't getting enough recharge, or energon.

Smokescreen had seen Prowl leave the room, watching the mech from the corner of his optics. Why he was leaving Smokescreen didn't know but it may have had something to do with the rumours now circulating around the base. Cliffjumper had started a rumour the second orn the two mechs had been on the base.

Apparantely on their first night cycle at the base the new medic, Ratchet, had burst into Cliffjumper's quarters for no reason, or so the mini bot said. Then the rumour just got weirder. Prowl had been curled up and crying on his berth, whole chassis shaking as the medic calmed him down. The irate mech had then turned on Cliffjumper and accused him of not calling a medic for his roommate.

The head tactician didn't know whether to believe it or dismiss it, the rumour was so far fetched. In the end he just filed it away and focused his processor on more important matters, such as the incoming comm. from the mech currently known as Creator Three. Really, his family was seriously messed up.

:Smokescreen, have you seen my creation?:

:Sorry Creator, but which creation are we talking about?:

:Prowl of course, he's the only one missing at the moment!:

Smokescreen contemplated the situation. Creator Three was obviously upset with Prowl and it wouldn't bode well for the junior tactician if he was to be found. Smokescreen was thankful that he had a different set of creators because nothing could be worse than getting Creators 1, 2 or three for your own.

:I haven't seen him but I'll keep on the lookout Creator Three:

The mech didn't even reply as he cut the comm. link. The mech was always rude, especially to any of the creations. Smokescreen knew he would regret his hasty decision at a later stage when he would have to meet up with Creator Three but until then he pushed the conversation from his mind and settled back into the conversations around the table.

* * *

><p>How was that? Isn't it surprising that Smokescreen didn't give away Prowl?<p> 


	20. Found?

Hey Everyone! Unfortunately this isn't a full chapter for you all to enjoy. I am leaving today for my trip and I don't have enough time to finish off this chapter nicely so I'll just give you what I have so far. I still have lots to do in order to get ready to go so this is just one way of relieving the small amount of stress I'm under. I hope you enjoy this preview though. By the time I get around to posting the next chapter, and the rest of this one, I hope that I have a fair few reviews from you all. I should at least get one chapter up while I'm away, especially if I end up with my laptop for my birthday.

We have reached the 50th review so it's time for a bit of a party. Sideslip, you get a double serve of highgrade, Jazz's or the Twins' you choose. :D For the rest of us, Jazz is throwing a bit of a party so lets crank up the tunes. :D

Qwertz: It's great to have new readers on board with this story. :D About the mary-sueness of SparkSoul, AcidGreenFlames was right. You don't actually know all that much about the femme and if you had picked up on a couple of the hints earlier on you would have found out that Prowl really is the odd one out with this. She will be turning up a fair bit, including in this chapter as she is now playing more of a role in our plot. Otherwise, we'd have some questions about how Creator Three hasn't found Prowl yet despite the fact that SparkSoul has a sibling bond with him. I will be writing the history of SparkSoul later on, after this story is finished if you would actually like to find out that she isn't so marysueish. Other than that enjoy this chapter and the rest of this story.

* * *

><p>The night cycle had come when Prowl was to get his battle computer rewired. The fritzes had become more and more frequent; so frequent that Prowl was skipping work twice a day to find somewhere to hide and let his battle computer fritz. It was raising many suspicions within the tactical department and certainly not making his life any easier.<p>

Kup had been on his case more than usual and no matter where Prowl walked he would garner unwanted attention in the form of cruel stares and jokes. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe usually hung around him when he wasn't on duty, providing some much needed support despite whatever Prowl would say out loud. Truthfully it was nice to have someone there who would back him up and wasn't always trying to find faults in him.

Cliffjumpers rumours had spread like wildfire, morphing and changing until there wasn't one ounce of the truth left. The newest statement was that Prowl had attempted suicide after strapping Cliffjumper to the berth and forcing him into stasis. Everyone kept well clear of the black and white mech except for the few warriors who liked to goad him on, to the shouts and encouragements of the other bots on base.

Ratchet had been holed up in the medical bay for the few orns since Prowl had sequestered himself in the twins' room. Despite this the red and white mech hadn't been oblivious to the rumours that were flying around the base. Many mechs became chatty when they were in the med bay, especially if they were under the influence of drugs.

Prowl was somewhat nervous about the operation although he knew that he shouldn't be. He had gone through so many helm operations before that this should have been one of many. However he couldn't help but feel that this one would be different, have a different outcome than the others.

The mechs who used to work on his helm and did most of the operations knew how he was brought online, had designed his battlecomputer and knew his systems inside out. Although there was no doubting that Ratchet was an extremely good medic there was the issue that he didn't really know Prowl's systems all that well. The black and white mech knew intuitively that his frame was different from most other frames, something was slightly different. He couldn't tell you what but somehow he knew.

The tactician was also not all that certain that replacing the wiring would help him all that much. The solution was just too simple for such a complex problem. His battle computer wasn't the best piece of technology despite its advanceness. To fix one thing would probably just reveal that something else wasn't working all that right. This was probably the reason his computer had been replaced so often while he had still been with creator and the technicians.

As Prowl walked from the tactical room to his quarters he ignored the looks cast his way, an unusual emotion rising within him. The emotion had become very common, appearing every time he received the dark looks and jeering comments. Not allowing his battle computer to analyse anything the tactician through up multiple firewalls.

The door to his shared quarters opened with a soothing click, allowing him entrance to the room which should have been empty. Instead, sitting on his berth was SparkSoul. Her frame was languidly stretched out, back leaning against the wall with her helm tilted back. Optics brightened the second the door clicked open and the femme rolled her head towards her charge, surveying him with open intensity.

Prowl was stunned to see the femme within his quarters. He hadn't seen her for a while and his thoughts immediately skipped to creator three and the search for him. It didn't take much for the tactician to be worrying about Jazz, the twins and Ratchet. They were the only ones he had gotten close to but they could be at risk.

"No need to get so uptight Prowl, I'm not here on behalf of Creator Three and I won't be telling him where you are. Your battle computer has been giving you more trouble lately, are you okay?" the black femme asked, voice soft and lilting.

The black and white mech stepped inside before answering the question, careful to shut the door behind him. It certainly wouldn't do for anyone to spread a rumour about an unknown femme being in his quarters. "How did you know I was here? My battle computer has been giving me some trouble but it's nothing I can't handle."

Sparksoul gave him a piercing look,

seeing straight through his lie. "Your battle computer is stuffing you around, I haven't fully blocked the bond you know. I found you by following the bond which didn't prove too difficult."

Prowl let out an exvent, annoyed that the femme had managed to find him with such ease. However, he was glad that she wasn't here on behalf of his creator as that would have had serious consequences that he knew he wouldn't like. It alarmed him to know that she could feel the effects his battle computer on him and how it had gotten steadily worse.

Although Ratchet knew about his fritzes and hi battle computer freezing up he didn't know how it was conflicting with his spark, that the computer was draining his energy at an alarming rate. SparkSoul though, she knew. He could tell just by the look in her optics.

"Are you going to be doing anything about your battle computer Prowl? You can't keep going on like this, either your spark on the computer is going to fail you. The sooner you resolve the issue the better," SparkSoul questioned, her reasoning sound.

Something about her, the way her optics connected with his own gave him an inkling. Her comments always made sense, were always thoroughly thought through with such fine precision that she had to have a battle computer similar to his own. To think that she was able to function, without problems while running the same software, or similar, was outstanding.

"Ratchet, one of the medics here, is going to be rewiring my battle computer. I'm not sure how well it's going to work though. I don't think the problem is solely fried wires but I couldn't be sure," Prowl responded, hoping that the information on the relatively small operation would appease her.

"If it doesn't work I know a couple of people who may be able to help. That would be a last resort though," SparSoul mused out loud, making Prowl aware to the fact that there were other things that could be going wrong.

"I am coping perfectly well at the moment so no drastic action needs to be taken. If my battle computer becomes so conflicting that I am in danger of offlining then I will contact you," Prowl replied, not real liking the tone the femme had taken when she had spoken about her so called 'contacts'.

"Ensure that you do Prowl, I would prefer if you didn't offline on me," SparkSoul replied as she rose from the berth. "I will see you later Prowl and I'll drop some false hints with Creator Three for you."

With that the femme turned from the black and white mech, taking two steps forward before disappearing into thin air.

* * *

><p>That's all I have written so far for this chapter but I'll post the rest when it's written. I hope you all have a great Christmas for those of you who celebrate it and a wonderful new year if I don't post before then.<p> 


	21. Operation

Hey Everyone! Greetings from Canada! Christmas is only a couple of days away so here is your christmas chapter. I won't have time for much else this month, unless my laptop is up and running for our road trip through the United States. So I posted this continuation of chapter 20 as a new chapter, simply because it's over 3000 words on its own. I hope you all enjoy this. Not quite sure where my brain went buuuuuut I hope this makes sense when you read it. Not much from Ratchet's point of view but I am a little pressed for time.

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted so far, it means a lot to me. The little party we had was certainly epic and I hope you all stick with me through the holidays and into the new year! Have a great festive season and I'll see you all soonish, I hope.

* * *

><p>Prowl stood alone in the room, at first confused as to how SparkSoul had left. The confusion didn't last long as he recalled a conversation he had accidently overheard between two of the technicians in Iacon. SparkSoul was one of the ancients and as such had a powerful warp capability, apparently something her part of the family had. The femme must have used that to get away from his room and into it for that matter.<p>

It was unusual though, that she didn't have to use a series of small warps to get where she was going. Most mechs and femmes with a warp capability used small warps to cover large distances as many couldn't generate large warps. For SparkSoul to be able to perform large jumps was extremely unusual. Prowl knew she hadn't used small, short-distanced warps simply because his doorwing sensors hadn't picked up anything within the hallways around his quarters.

The black and white mjech pushed the occurrence from his processor, not wanting to provoke his battle computer. Another thought popped into his processor, one which he quelled immediately. Why had SparkSoul chosen to protect him? She hadn't been there to help him all the time but maybe she didn't actually mind him.

Steering his battle computer away fromt he tumultuous thoughts, Prowl checked his chronometer, slightly apprehensive about the upcoming rewiring of his battle computer. There was still a half joor before he would hve to leave and head to the medbay.

Grudgingly the tactician focused his attention on a detail that had been bugging him since the deal had been made with Ratchet. Spare time coulcdn't be wasted, it was much too precious for that!

The thought had been twirling around the black and white mech's processor every orn, shoved into crevices or studiously ignored. Prowl knew that he hadn't been brought online the same way as other bots. It had been easy for him to figure out that he was one of the illegal younglings, a frame brought online with a generated spark.

Since then the tactician had known that the revelation had to be kept secret, that usually such creations were terminated or shunned by the council. This operation coul undo all of his hard work in hiding the way he was brought online so he had to have a plan to get away.

Ratchet would be thorough, that was a given and undoubtedly he wouldn't only rewire his helm but give him a full check up as well. For Prowl that was where the trouble would begin. Even a quick search through all of his systems would reveal anomalies and a slightly longer one would pinpoint his spark. Prowl couldn't think of any wayt to hide his unique spark signature read out from Ratchet, probably because there was no way to. That left Prowl with only one viable option, to have an escape plan.

If Ratchet reported him to the council his creator would find him and he would most likely be offlined by the council. There was a slim chance that the medic wouldn't report him in, or that's what his battle computer was telling him. Getting away safely would be no easy feat that the tactician had no delusions about. His plan would have to be soundproof, infallible even, for him to have a chance of staying online.

His battle computer ran through scenarios until it was time to leave to go to the medbay, a final option having been refined and placed at the top of his processor. He had only one shot at this and this was the plan he was to rely upon.

A last survey around the room and Prowl was leaving his quarters behind him and journeying to the medbay. The hallways were fairly empty but still the tactician used the service hallways to get where he was going, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he was going to the medical bay. The cameras outside the medbay always had bots watching them and it wouldn't do for them to see him arriving there so late at night and then staying for such a long time.

Leaving, he would be alright to use the front hallways because then it would appear that one of the mechs just missed him entering the medbay at some point or other and then they would see Prowl return to his quarters, nothing particularly unusual about that. Many of the bots knew that the black and white tactician was friends with the red and white medic and it wasn't odd for said tactician to visit the medic in his medbay some time during the night cycle.

The twins stood outside the entrance to the medbay along the service hallway, imposing figures guarding the doors. The two had become quite protective of Ratchet and usually didn't leave him alone if they could help it. Most of the time the medic didn't even know that they were watching over him.

Nothing was said as Prowl entered the med bay, the red and yellow warriors not moving even as the doors slid shut. Inside the medical bay was as clean as ever, and the back room was prepped for surgery. Ratchet stood around waiting, leaning against one of the berths just inside the doorway.

"Everything is ready Prowl, so long as you are," Ratchet said, confident in his own ability and the set up of the operating room.

"I am quite ready Ratchet," Prowl responded as he followed the red and white medic into the operating room.

The black and white mech laid down on the berth, doorwings slightly uncomfortable with the position. He felt the prick of a needle in his neck wires as a serum was injected into his lines, forcing him into stasis. His optics shut of their own accord and then he was encased in darkness.

O0O O0O O0O O0O O0O O0O O0O

Coming online his systems were sluggish to boot up. The first thing to come online was his sensor net, followed soon after by his audio receivers and battle computer. His optics were the last to come online, his vision filled with Ratchet's faceplates. The medic didn't look particularly happy, not happy at all actually.

Prowl rose into a sitting position, allowing his systems to readjust. He could feel the difference with his battle computer, messages were being sent more clearly which Prowl knew would improve his efficiency. Overall the black and white mech knew it had been at least beneficial to a degree even if it didn't do much for the fritzes.

The tactician focused his attention on the medic now that his systems were up and running. The medic's faceplates were clouded, his expression hard to read. It was still easy to tell he was upset, the gravity to the room was strong enough to pick up on, even for Prowl.

Just as the black and white doorwinger was about to confront Ratchet the red and white mech left the room and entered the main part of the medbay, obviously expecting the tactician to follow.

Prowl entered the room to find Ratchet sitting in a chair beside one of the berths."I'll have to report you to the council," Ratchet said, his posture defeated, helm in servos. His findings had shocked him and rocked him to the core.

The medic didn't want to have to report the tactician, not after everything he had been through. It hurt him to think that the mech in front of him would have to suffer more, even be offlined if he reported to the council. It had been a law for a long time, the punishment though was hardly just. The red and white mech had always detested that particular punishment, the creation being punished for being online, for existing through the hardship while the creator of said creation got away fairly lightly. In Prowl's case his creator might not even be identified and certainly not punished.

It was his duty though, to report such things despite any of his own misgivings. Ratchet couldn't even look up, his sparking clenching in fear for the mech in front of him. Hopefully the black and white tactician had planned for such an event, that he would be able to get away before the council enforcement came to the base.

A much scarier thought popped into the medic's mind. Prowl's creator, who was apparently searching for the mech, would undoubtedly catch wind of discovery of a frame with a clinically made spark and link it with Prowl. The doorwinger wouldn't just have to be wary of the council, his creator would be on the lookout as well.

"I understand Ratchet, thank you," Prowl replied, door wings held as stiffly as ever not giving away just how fast his processor was working.

The black and white mech had noticed the way Ratchet wasn't looking forward to turning him in and hoped, just slightly, that the medic would at least wait an orn or two before telling the council anything. That way he would have at least a bit of a head start on the mayhem that would follow.

His plan from earlier was sound in his battle computer, sitting there ready and waiting for it to be put into action. In the background the battle computer was running analysis after analysis on the crudely put together plan, fixing any faults it could find. The more the plan was reviewed, the better it would end up in the end. The odds of Prowl coming out of the whole debacle online was slim but at least he had a chance.

When the medic said nothing else Prowl turned to leave, committing the image of the medic to his processor. The medic had been one of the few who actually cared about him and it was something the black and white mech appreciated. The door slid open in front of him and the doorwinger entered the hallway, leaving the red and white mech sitting alone in the expansive med bay.

The hallway was deserted, not a soul in sight. The twins who had been guarding the med bay had left for one of their many shifts, the only bots who had previously occupied the hallway. No one else came down that way unless they really had to which was usually when they were injured. During the light cycle the place was usually full of bots returning from patrols injured and in need of attention. During the night cycle though, the place was one of the most abandoned on the base.

Prowl headed for his quarters, walking fast but not quite fast enough to garner attention. The few bots who were out walking the hallways were intoxicated, having attended one of the many parties thrown on base under the guise of "boosting morale". Nothing would particularly stick in these bots' minds but the cameras throughout the base were still operating and the mechs monitoring the feedback would pick up on something as little as anybot walking too fast.

Once he reached his quarters Prowl wasted no time in locking the door to the room and opening the vent against the wall. His roommate, Cliffjumper hadn't spent much time there since the little incident with Prowl's battle computer, most likely just rooming with some of the other minibots. The red and black mech still came to the room but he made sure to come at a point in time when the tactician wouldn't be there. This suited the doorwinger's purposes superbly, leaving him alone to leave the base. Any questions the minibot would have asked may have delayed him, or really hampered his escape.

Hoisting himself inside the relatively small air vent the doorwinger made sure to pull the appendages in close to his back, minimising the amount of space he took up. Even in making himself as small as possible it was still a tight squeeze for Prowl, the pressure on his doorwings painful. Moving quietly through the vents would be challenging but there was no turning back now. This was the plan that had been decided upon and there was no time to create another one.

Upon reaching the right vent to descend from the tactician widened his sensor net so that it encompassed the entire hallway below him. All of his power reserves were poured into the net, making it as strong as possible. A small blip appeared on the net, not lasting for very long. Apprehensive, Prowl waited five clicks before slowly removing the grate on the vent.

Gripping the side of the vent opposite him the black and white mech swung himself down to the ground, not making a sound. Immediately Prowl pressed his doorwings against the wall, arms out in front of him in case of attack. The tactician continued with his sensor sweeps, adding the use of his optics as he scanned the hallway. Nothing presented itself to Prowl so he cautiously moved away from the wall.

An unknown mass collided with him, knocking him to the ground, the crash of metal filling the previously deserted hallway. Prowl's first reaction was to fight, smashing his servo into the unknown bot. A servo came for his helm and he parried it, flipping the mech above him to the ground beside him and scrambling to his pedes.

On his pedes Prowl made sure that he was in the centre of the hallway, not backed against the wall. There were options to get away if he needed to and it would be hard to get stuck at any particular point in time. His optics were dimmed, making it harder for his opponent to see him but still another servo came flying out of the dark. It didn't connect with any part of the black and white chassis as Prowl dodged it.

As Prowl refocused his optics after avoiding the attack he recognised the chassis in front of him, it was Jazz! Why Jazz was here he didn't know, but he did know that they didn't really need to be fighting right now. A slight gasp left Prowl's vents and he was unfocused for just a second, enough time for Jazz to flip him to the ground, holding him there with an extremely strong grip.

"What d'ya think ya're doin'?" Jazz growled, his voice low and harsh.

"Jazz, it is Prowl," Prowl responded, not actually answering the question that was asked of him.

No sound came from the mech above him, Jazz obviously thinking it through. The shape of his doorwings and the definable chevron upon his helm must have convinced the saboteur that it was actually him as the grip on his servos loosened. Prowl took the opportunity to sit up and turn around as the weight upon his back shifted and he was able to move.

"What are ya doin' Prowler? Ya shoul' be rechargin' at tha moment," Jazz questioned, a hint of confusion to his tone.

"I need to leave Jazz, the council is going to be here soon if I do not leave now," Prowl replied, rising into a standing position.

"Why woul' the council be after ya Prowler? Tha makes no sense," Jazz asked, rising as the doorwinger did.

"Look, go ask Ratchet because he is the one going to report me and I need to get going, now if I have any chance at all," Prowl said, his tone filled with desperation.

"Ya aren't goin' anywhere Prowler, Ah'll just make sure Ratch doesn't report ya. Come on, we better go talk ta him," Jazz said as he grabbed his fellow black and white's servo and dragged him back into the base, using the service hallways to get them to the medical bay.

Prowl was feeling more and more uneasy the closer they got to the medical bay. He knew that he should already have left the base, his creator was probably already on his way and nothing would save him once he arrived. There was a hope, deep down in his spark, that Jazz would be able to ensure that Ratchet didn't report him to the council. This hope was small though and he squashed it down, not letting it take root in his processor, it would do no good to hope.

The med bay door loomed in front of the two black and white mechs. Both regarded it with different emotions running through their sparks, Prowl with fear and Jazz with no small amount of anger. Jazz strode into the room, not waiting for the doors to open fully before dragging the doorwinger inside.

Ratchet was still sitting where Prowl had left him, appearing as if he hadn't moved as much as an inch. Jazz made a beeline straight for the medic, not really caring about the medics dejected expression or the posture of his chassis.

"Ya aren't really goin' ta report Prowler to the council are ya? Tha's jus' stupidity! He's one o' the best tacticians I've ever known an' he's one of ma best mates," Jazz exclaimed, getting straight to the point.

"I don't have a choice Jazz, I'm duty bound to report such things to the council," Ratchet said, slightly exasperated.

"Can't ya make an exception for Prowler? He's been through enough don't cha think?" Jazz weedled, still not knowing exactly what it was that was being reported.

"I can't Jazz, this is just too important. I don't particularly agree with the consequences that are the outcome of him being reported but it must be done," Ratchet said, the exasperation was clear in his tone.

"Wha' exactly is tha problem?" Jazz asked, "Why's he got to be reported to tha council?"

Ratchet shot the saboteur a look full of annoyance. "Prowl's spark was made, in a lab. He's technically an illegal creation. Creating sparks was banned a long time ago and since then all of us medics have been made to swear that we would report any created sparks that came through our care."

Jazz felt rocked to the core, he knew what would happen to a created spark if reported to the council. It scared him to think that his friend could be offlined even when it wasn't his own fault that he was a created spark. In all reality it should have been the creator who was punished but that just wasn't the way the council worked.

"Ratch' ya jus' can't let Prowler get offlined by tha council! If ya report him Ah'll have ta run wit' him. There is no way I'm leavin' my best friend again!" Jazz cried, his spark clenching in fear for his friend.

The emotions he had been feeling when he had been in Praxus and again when Prowl had shown up in Iacon were still running strong in his spark. He knew what emotions they were now although he knew that the tactician probably wouldn't return them, yet. He needed to work on displaying his feelings to Prowl, something which certainly couldn't be rushed. Getting Prowl to respond to his feelings, or even acknowledging his own would be difficult.

Prowl was slightly amazed by what Jazz had said. To think that the saboteur would just leave with him, because of their friendship was amazing. None of the other mechs he knew would do that, Smokescreen and the others from the academy would have scoffed at the idea but here Jazz was, claiming that he would run with Prowl if Ratchet contacted the council.

"I'll lose my medical accreditation if the council ever found out that I didn't report Prowl to them Jazz. To risk so many lives that I could possibly save is unfathomable," Ratchet declared, torn between wanting to just let the incident slip by him and the fact that there could be serious consequences for all of them if the council found out.

"Tha council won' find out. They have too much on their hands a' tha moment with the riots an' all. If a war starts, like tha predictions say they won' have time for such things. We can keep it on tha low down until then," Jazz stated confidently.

The saboteurs confidence convinced the red and white medic, despite his misgivings. "I guess I don't have to report Prowl to the council just yet. I haven't put the operation on record anyway so his creator won't be snooping around here yet," Ratchet said, still a little hesitant.

Prowl was stunned that the medic was actually convinced not to report him. It had been such a slim hope in his spark that he was all but waiting impatiently for the moment when he would be able to leave the room and make a dash for it. His battle computer had been running at full speed, yet again, to come up with a new plan for leaving the base. Factoring in Jazz hadn't changed much in his planning and he had just created a plan that was deemed safe enough to execute when Jazz had convinced Ratchet not to report him.

Jazz let out a whoop and encased Prowl in a massive hug, arms wrapped firmly around the slightly larger, doorwinged chassis. "Thanks Ratch, I owe ya one!"

* * *

><p>Did it make sense? Did you like your Chrissie present? I would love some reviews if you've got a little time. :D Have a great festive season!<p> 


	22. A Newcomer and a Departure

Hey Everyone! I'm sorry for taking so long to update. I did get a fair bit done when I was up in North Bay but I didn't get the whole chapter finished. I am home again and school is in full swing. I've decided that I'm making writing part of my timetable each day with each day dedicated to a different story. Wednesdays are dedicated to this story so hopefully it won't take as long for the next chapter to come out. I will also be working on my stories at Writers club etc. Just to put it out there now, To the Academy and Beyond will be linked to this story so if you want to see a bit of how SparkSoul grows up go check it out. It also focuses on Jazz at the academy along with Optimus, Starscream and assorted others. However, it won't be for a while until you see SparkSouloul in the story. Anyways, lets get you guys reading!

Well done to MrsHarryPotter for having the 60th review and RebelDynasty for having the 70th review. Highgrade for the both of you, Jazz or the twins' brew? Your choice. Unless of course you want black energon...something that I haven't yet introduced to the story, I think. Unless I explained it back when SparkSoul was drinking it. Gah, can't remember.

* * *

><p>Chapter 22<p>

Jazz stayed on at the base after the operation. Prowl never managed to get a reason for him being there in the first place and eventually gave up the endeavour.

His work load didn't decrease but it also didn't increase, something the tactician was thankful about. The atmosphere in the office hadn't changed any and no one on the base seemed to have any suspicions about the operation.

The operation though, wasn't quite as much of a success as they had hoped it to be. At first he wasn't fritzing as much, not having as many issues with processing ordinary tactical data. Soon though it returned to normal with him fritzing at illogical things although the fritzes weren't quite as bad as they had previously been.

Jazz kept a close eye on Prowl, something that the tactician found more annoying than anything else. The saboteur though was really quite persistent although how he managed to get his own work done as well as keeping a close eye on the doorwinger was any wonder.

The twins had also been very close with Jazz since he had arrived at the base. They had caught up on everything since they had split ways with Jazz. It was fast becoming normal to see Prowl, Jazz and the twins sitting together in the recreation room.

No longer was Prowl known as the one bot who stuck to himself. To others he looked comfortable in the presence of these bots as he relaxed after shift.

To those who knew him though it was easy to tell that he was holding himself stiffly and not really wanting to be there. The twins though, they didn't give him much of an option to get away.

It was a few deca-orns after the operation that it was announced that Smokescreen was being shifted to Iacon. It was also then that it was announced that the Delta Sector base was going to shut down.

At that point in time only a few of the bots were being shifted to the other larger bases and it would be a fairly slow transition of bots until the base was fully closed. With this news Jazz was also recalled to the Iacon base.

Delta Sector became a flurry of activity, Prowl not getting swept up in the chaos. His work within the tactical sector stayed the same, not really changing. The twins were shifted with Jazz, leaving him alone on the base.

Ratchet stayed on, simply because the other medics were transferred. This allowed the red and white mech to take full control of the medical bay which he was really happy about. Of course it meant that he was working longer shifts but it was without the hassle of the odd hours and overbearing superiors.

Prowl wandered the hallways after his shift, not really knowing what to do with himself. The base was becoming more and more empty and it wasn't as if he knew many of the bots there in the first place. Cliffjumper had been moved out of the sector soon after Smokescreen so the tactician no longer had to worry about sharing his quarters.

Ratchet was always busy so the black and white doorwinger never dropped into the med bay so as not to disturb the medic. Collecting a cube of energon the Praxian returned to his room, settling down with a tactical datapad.

Reading was simple enough for him but sometimes the fictional data pads would throw his battle computer for a fritz. Some of the stories would touch on illogical emotions or ideas, frustrating him to no end. It was simpler then, to just read historical data pads or tactical information.

Recently the Autobot Tactical Division had published a few data pads to do with drawing up tactical plans and working with advanced tactical computers. None of it was all that useful, or interesting for Prowl but it was something to do with his time.

As he reached the end of his data pad the black and white doorwinger heard a soft knock at the door. It was unusual for anyone to come to his room, much less for someone to actually knock on the door. He had become accustomed to Jazz, Ratchet or the twins just barging in. Apparently Jazz had hacked the code and then given it to both of the twins on the idea that they would keep an eye on him. Ratchet, he just overrode the code with his medical key command whenever he wanted to.

Getting up from the chair he had been sitting in Prowl opened the door. In front of him was a slightly smaller doorwinger with grey colouring. His doorwings were held down low, optics peeking up from the downward tilted helm.

"Uh, hi. I'm Bluestreak and I just arrived at the base. The people at the reception said that I would be sharing this room and that I should come and get acquainted with you. I had to go to the rec room first to get some energon although I probably shouldn't have. The others think that you are really antisocial although apparantely you've gotten better over the last little while. I really hope you don't mind me talking though because I'm always talking and I just couldn't handle it if I couldn't talk while I was '-'" the doorwinger said as he was interrupted by Prowl.

"Hello Bluestreak, my designation is Prowl. Come on in," Prowl said as he stepped away from the doorway.

Although the base was now much emptier that it usually was and many rooms were now vacant there wasn't many free rooms. The room allocations were in constant upheaval due to the fact that once there was few enough bots they would be moved onto the central corridor and the corridor their room had been allocated on would be shut down, locked and sealed tightly.

"Oh wow this is a really cool room. Which bed can I sleep on? You don't mind the talking do you? I always talk a lot and everyone always thinks it gets really annoying and then they get really frustrated with me and yell at me. You won't yell at me will you Prowl? I promise to be quiet if you get really annoyed with me," Bluestreak said in a rush as he looked around the room.

Prowl was amused by his fellow Praxian. At first he thought the chattering would get old very quickly but in reality it wasn't all that bad. It was weird though that they were bringing more bots on base when they were trying to shut it down.

"I sleep on that berth so you can take that one. I will not yell at you for talking too much," Prowl answered, gesturing to which berth was his and which one the newcomer could sleep on.

"It's great that you won't yell at me because it's really not nice when bots yell at me. At the last place everyone wanted me to be quiet all the time but that isn't fun at all. Not that talking is all that fun but at least it's better than silence," Bluestreak continued to ramble, Prowl just tuning it out.

The newcomer continued to talk as the two got ready for recharge earlier than Prowl would usually. However it was easy enough for the two of them to slip into recharge, the tactician's mind caught up trying to figure out the reasoning behind the doorwinger being brought onto the base.

The next morning Prowl was up and working well before Bluestreak came out of recharge. The base, what was left of its inhabitants, were astir with news of the three new arrivals from the lunar cycle before.

Apparently they had been brought in simply because they were to be integrated in with some of the Autobots. The rumour was that they were survivors from some of the city attacks in one of the other sectors. No one was quite sure exactly which cities they were from as the higher command was mostly likely keeping such information from anyone within the ranks who didn't need to know in order to prevent any alarm in those within the faction.

Prowl started up the desk bound tactical computers as he checked the backlog of messages within his comm. unit. There was one there tagged as important and it was the one that he opened first. It didn't matter that he didn't know the sender of the message, it was flagged important so it was most likely essential he open it. However, not one to just rush into anything the black and white doorwinger initiated his firewalls and scanned the message before proceeding to play it back.

"Autobot Prowl this is Steeljump, Head of the Internal Troop Movements Department. These are your moving orders. You are being transferred to the Iacon Base within the orn. Be prepared for departure mid-orn. One of the members of the department will meet you when you arrive in Iacon to show you to your quarters and arrange where you are working. "

The message ended abruptly, no sign off or anything. The bot must have been pressed for time although it certainly was odd that the head of the department was the one sending the comm. and not one of the staff members. Pushing that fact to the back of his processor Prowl commed through to the transport division at the sector to determine when the shuttle was leaving during the orn.

After being told the shuttle was just after mid-orn the tactician downloaded all necessary information off of his computer console before wiping the machine of everything. If the base was invaded or taken over it would be no use having sensitive information in enemy hands.

That done the black and white mech returned to his quarters which he had only just recently left in order to pack up the very few belongings that he had. There was still a meeting to attend within two joors and there was more to pack than he would have liked. Jazz had insisted on cluttering up his room in useless thing that he really didn't need and now he would have to include them in the things he took.

Bluestreak had left the room when he got there, the doorwinged mech had nothing anywhere within the room. That fact certainly supported the common rumour however, Prowl himself had never had all that many possessions and he hadn't been in one of the attacked cities. This wasn't the usual practice for bots though, so it was certainly odd.

Prowl's few belongings were quickly subspaced and he left for the line up of meetings in his schedule. The relevant data pads for the meetings sat within his subspace, ready for his part in the usually unorganised proceedings that made up the Delta Sector department meetings.

By mid-orn Prowl was in the transport hangar ready to board the shuttle which was doing a roundabout route through all of the Autobot bases. This was the one main shuttle that ran every orn, now taking many of the bots from the sector into their new bases with very few actually coming to the sector. It wouldn't be long now before the place would be fully abandoned.

Around Prowl a small group of bots waited to board, none looking too happy or too sad about the occurrence. Many knew bots at the places they were going but were also reluctant to lose the new friends they had made at the base. Of course, most would have traded their comm. links so that when they had time they would be able to contact eachother. However the war just seemed to be picking up speed and the warriors were finding it hard to find time to sleep never mind contact others.

The shuttle opened for boarding and those that were gathered in the hangar boarded it and found seats for themselves. There wasn't enough passengers to bother with the tickets most usually got so within a few clicks the shuttle was taking off, its circuitous route making the travel time well over ten joors.

The transport shuttle had only just left when another, smaller taxi shuttle pulled into the hangar. Two occupants alighted into the hangar, bright light glinting off two dark frames, one pure black and the other black with blue highlights. Their optics swept the hangar quickly before they moved forwards with a sense of purpose, looking to find one specific bot on the small base.

Running through the larger of the two mechs' processors was the thought:

"_The time has come for you, my creation, to pay for disobeying me."_

* * *

><p>Did you all like it? Please review! The more you all review the more motivated I am to write. Remember, two reviews before I update. Question: Black Energon, what do you think it is and who can have it?<p> 


	23. The Atrium

Hey Everyone! So this chapter was out a bit quicker than expected because I got onto a bit of a roll. I figured it was about time I did some development on Creator Three and the ancients. Next chapter will be back to Prowl but I thought that this needed to be put in there. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I love all the feedback. Also, thanks to everyone who has favourited or alerted this story, it means a lot.

So, I promised you all (or those of you who reviewed) that I would explain Black Energon. Well, it is all part of this kooky idea I came up with so bear with me here. I have decided that everyone is going to have a different type of spark. The four types are Black, Dark, Light and Gold sparks. Black and darks sparks can drink Black energon and dark energon while Light and gold sparks can drink light and high grade energon. However, Black sparks can't drink high grade and Gold sparks can't drink black energon because it doesn't agree with their sparks. Light and dark sparks can drink dark energon, light and high grade energon. Only black sparks can drink the black energon. Black energon is cultivated from dying sparks, usually from the gladiator pits and is pure black in colour.

Disclaimer: The name 'No-One" belongs to Hearts of Eternity and is used with permission. The name is borrowed from her War Eternal series.

* * *

><p>Chapter 23<p>

Capturing Prowl at the base hadn't been as easy as expected for Creator Three. In theory all that he and SparkTwister had to do was turn up on the base, sneak past the cameras and get Prowl from either his quarters or the tactical planning office. However Prowl had been in niether of these places.

SparkTwister had quickly become pissed off threatening Creator Three with harsh punishment if the didn't get Prowl. It hadn't really been Creator Three's fault though, it had been SparkTwister who had located the insolent youngling. The intricate details of it all didn't really bother the larger of the two mechs, he was angry and the outlet for his anger would be the slightly smaller mech beside him.

Hacking into the base network hadn't been all that difficult and had yielded its rewards. Prowl had been moved to another base, which one, they didn't know. Grudgingly creator three had to admit the fact that at least one of the Autobots would have to have an actual processor in their helms.

It infuriated the mech though, to know he had missed out on catching his ignorant and frustrating creation by nothing short of a few clicks. Just a few short clicks earlier and the outcome of their mission would have been so much better.

SparkTwister had already made him pay dearly for letting the black and white doorwinger slip from their grasp. As soon as they had been clear of the Autobot territories the blue chevroned mech had laid into him with an almost unmatchable intensity. The ancients, even these younger ones, knew how to fight well. He came away from the uneven and unfair fight with damage to all of his frame, leaking energon from all major energon lines.

Creator One, or No-One as he was referred to in the public view, made sure to train all of his creations well. He stopped at nothing to train them to be the best. Most of the Spark's had been to the gladiator pits at some stage and those who hadn't would be going in soon, whether they liked it or not. Each of them was trained in the ways of the Dark Arts, something which Creator One excelled at. None of the creations could beat him at that one fighting style, he had much too powerful a spark.

The Spark creations were accurately named though, each having their own ability of sorts. SparkStealer, SparkDrainer, SparkCrusher, SparkIllusion, SparkSmasher, SparkTricker, SparkTwister and SparkSoul were all perfectly named. The only two femmes being SparkStealer and SparkSoul.

SparkStealer, well she was a femme who easily stole sparks. It didn't matter whether you were bonded or not she could trick a mech or femme away from their mate and make them hers without any trouble. It had caused many a problem between the two femmes over the vorns. Out of spite SparkStealer would steal away the mech that SparkSoul had a crush on, or in recent vorns she had stolen the one she was about to be bonded to.

SparkDrainer, one of the mechs, could drain sparks of their energy with just a touch to a bots frame. He had to be concentrating on it luckily otherwise there would have been many offline mechs and femmes about. Usually his talent was kept for in the pits or when the family went up against the ancients of the other cities.

SparkCrusher and SparkSmasher, a set of twins, had much the same talent, or rather passion. Both took great pleasure out of crushing, or smashing bots sparks. Neither had any real talent but their overzealous passion was certainly enough to earn them these designations.

SparkTwister another of the mechs, used his dark art skills combined with his natural talent to force the bot's spark to twist within its casing. It worked well in battle to get the bots into prone positions without even touching them. He couldn't actually take them out that way but that was why he didn't work alone. Usually SparkIllusion would work in tandom with SparkDrainer to allow his brother to get close to the mechs.

SparkIllusion could bring up the illusion, within a spark, that a bonded was close to a bot or that their bonded was offline. The bot or bots affected very usually lost all sense of conceptuality and were useless for the rest of the battle.

SparkSoul, her talent was slightly different. Although she now had optics in her eye sockets when she was brought online she didn't have them. Instead her spark energy had filled this space, making it almost pure black. When her optics were like this and she looked into another bots optics she could draw out their spark energy, enough to offline them. This femme was certainly one of the more powerful of the group, despite being slightly younger than the others.

All of the Spark creations had powerful battle computers installed although the ones that were allocated as "tacticians" had the slightly more powerful ones in place. These battle computers didn't come without their issues and it took a long time for each of the siblings to get used to them. Eventually SparkIllusion had come up with the idea of syncing their sparks through their battle computers to get rid of the confliction between emotion and logic. It had worked well enough for each of them that they no longer fritzed although illogical things could cause great pain for them.

Now he was being summoned before Creator One. All of his creations would be there, undoubtedly. Each of them imposing in their own way and much more powerful than he. Some of the creations were even more powerful than Creator One although they did well not to advertise the fact.

The streets of Praxus turned into a blur as Creator Three increased speed, paying no attention to the roads which had fallen into disrepair. The city was left behind him, the undefined territories stretching out in front.

Further down the stretch of road he stopped abruptly, for a reason that could not be seen. Transforming into root mode he walked to his left, towards the mountain like ranges that stretched off into the horizon. Creator Three stopped before he even reached the bottom of the range, bending down to open an invisible door which led into the ground.

Clambering down the stairs he walked forward, knowing the way to the atrium area as he had been there before. The atrium was used for any number of things although usually for the Spark family to gather or for a hearing between Creator One and any of the other creators.

The two large, heavy doors to the atrium stood imposingly in front of the creator an ominous sign of what he knew was about to come. A quick vent and then he pushed open the doors, walking through them with a confidence he didn't feel.

In the center of the high ceilinged atrium was a throne, Creator One perched upon it. His faceplates displayed his arrogance and power without him even looking up from his data pad. Stretching off to either side of the throne were his creations.

They stood in the order that they would upon the battlefield. The bodyguards of the creations stood one either side with the tacticians on the outside of them. After the tacticians were the warriors, the ones to be first in battle. Each of them stood in their place with an ease borne of long familiarity. They knew their places almost instinctively now after so many battles and vorns of training.

The youngest of the ancients, SparkSoul, was older than Creator Three but still considered a relative youngling. The ancients didn't mature as fast as the usual mech or femme. Their sparks took longer to mature but they gained more strength than any of the more modern creation sparks. Their original chassis grew to become larger than even a Prime's chassis. They had mods though, that allowed them to fold their armour in to become the size of a normal mech or femme so as not to bring attention to themselves. However, when they stood tall, doorwings flared out behind them you knew the power each of them held so self assured was their stance.

Their armour was heavier, thicker and made of much stronger metal than almost any other bots'. Within their frame were hidden weapons, some of them special designs for their frames and the others inherited weapons from the generation of ancients before them.

Each of the creations' helms were decorated with a chevron, each a different colour. There was not one colour repeated across all of the creations of the ancients. Each of these chevrons corresponded to the ones on the modern creations from each of the creators. The ancient with the chevron matching the modern creation was the "protector" of that group. The mods of the modern creations were based off of the ancient creation who was head of the group.

Prowl, he was part of SparkSoul's group, the femme currently on the left side of Creator one sandwiched between SparkDrainer and SparkStealer. The only two femmes of the ancients were SparkStealer and SparkSoul. The two had never gotten along well and it was only very occasionally that you ever saw them together in one place. This would have to be a big occasion for the two to be together within such a short distance.

Creator Three knelt before Creator One, lipplates held tightly closed as he waited for the ancient to speak. The hierarchy of the family was such that Creator One was the most powerful, followed by Creator Two, the ancient creations and then Creator Three. Within the atrium, Creator Three was the lowest ranking bot.

No one in the room moved, the air was alight with electricity. Each of the creations were practically vibrating with energy, adding to the mood of the room. Creator One was still, almost too still for him. The air hung stagnant, you could feel that something big was going to happen.

"You let him escape!" yelled Creator One, bursting from his throne to pin Creator Three to the ground. "We needed him, it was your responsibility to bring a creation online that would serve the Decepticon leader, whoever it turned out to be. As it is, you can't even do that. It was the simplest of all the jobs within the family and you FAILED!"

Throughout each sentence the ultimate creator landed blows upon the still chassis of Creator Three, the mech knowing better than to move when his superior was in such a mood.

"Do you not speak? Speak up you pathetic excuse for a mech!"

"I did not know he was to be moved Creator One," Creator Three stuttered, his voice low and almost unhearable.

"You did not know? It was your duty to know, to get him back. We needed him so that we secured ties to the Decepticons, to those who will soon be in power. Nevertheless it is not the loss of our whole plan, yet. You will need to get him back and you have a vorn to work with. Now leave, the sooner you get to work the better it will be for your health," the larger mech said as he rained one last kick on the chassis below him before standing.

When Creator Three lifted his helm again Creator One was reseated on his throne, optics locked with those of Creator Two. The creations hadn't moved, each standing their with heavy gazes, each pair of optics boring into his frame.

Creator three knew how to take a hint. Despite his aching frame, the energon the ran in rivulets across his paint, he stood and left the room. His dignity was now non-existant, if it had ever been existant at all. The murmur of low voices filled his audio receivers as he closed the door. Leaving the base he revved his engine in his haste to get back to the city, and away from the home of the sparks family.

* * *

><p>Did you like the chapter? Please review! Did you like the look into the sparks family?<p> 


	24. Iacon Base

Hey Everyone! Woooah it's been ages since I updated. I really apologise for this guys, school went crazy and so did cadets so I'm having a hard time finding time to write. However, Chapter 24 is here! Hopefully I'll get some more writing done in two weeks time-why? Because it's school holidays for a week. Admittedly I can't write during the Easter long weekend but hopefully after that I'll get another chapter done. This chappy is just a bit of a filler, just like the next couple of ones will be. We need to pass some time before it gets veeeery interesting again. I'm thinking that this story is going to end up at around 30 to 40 chapters long. I can see where I'm going and I'm going to try to push through these filler chappies so that we get to some action. We've got the plot about to get good andddddd some ProwlxJazz action. :D

Cudos to SideSlip-you were the 80th reviewer! What kind of energon would you like? I seem to have stockpiled a fair bit...We've got dark, light, high grade and black energon here. Brews by Jazz, the twins, Ratchet and Spark Soul.

Okay, last thing for this author note. How would you like it if the 100th reviewer got a oneshot of their choice as a reward?

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited and alerted this story as well as favourited or alerted me. It inspires me to keep going!

* * *

><p>Chapter 24<p>

The new base was much more expansive than the Delta Sector base. Here there was twice as many mechs as there had been out in the remote area. For Prowl there was very few familiar faces as no one had hopped off the shuttle with him when he arrived.

It had been a long shuttle flight before he had arrived. Every other base was stopped at before the shuttle reached Iacon as that was where it was mainly based. By then the black and white doorwinger had been the only one left in the passenger area. His doorwings had been cramped from sitting for so long but he had payed it no mind.

On disembarking the shuttle there had been one bot standing at the back of the hangar waiting for him. The mech had no outstanding features, even his colour scheme was fairly unremarkable. A light silver colour covered his frame. The slightly shorter mech barely spoke, except to state what time the doorwinger would be on shift, where he was to go and where the recreation room was.

The room he had been assigned was exactly like the one he had been in back at Delta Sector. He quite obviously had a roommate as belongings were scattered across the room. The tactician didn't bother laying out his few belongings as it was hard to tell which berth wasn't taken.

Just as the doorwinger turned around a ball of yellow crashed straight into him. The impact shocked him but Prowl managed to keep his footing. The bot who had run into him had to either be a youngling or a minibot. As there supposedly wasn't any younglings around it must be a minibot, most likely his room mate.

The black and white doorwinger helped the yellow minibot to regain his footing before taking a step back, a little disconcerted at the closeness of the other bot. He was somewhat comfortable with Jazz or even Sunstreaker and Sideswipe being close to him but a random bot, not so much. The tactician was still wary of those he didn't know, subconsciously thinking that they could be a threat to himself.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't expect you to be here yet. I was just coming back from shift and grabbing something before heading to the recreation room because a few of us minibots are meeting up and I really didn't want to be late. It would be no fun to be the last person there but it also isn't fun being the first one there," the yellow bot babbled, more than likely embarrassed by the way he had run into the taller mech.

"It is quite alright. I was just heading to the recreation room myself, I could wait for you if you wish," Prowl offered, deciding to try and get along better with this roommate than he had with Cliffjumper.

"Oh sure, thanks! I'm Bumblebee by the way. I'm one of the scouts here under Hound," Bumblebee answered as he darteed into their quarters to grab a couple of data pads and shove them in his subspace.

"My designation is Prowl and I am in the tactical sector," the Praxian replied as the two started walking.

The minibot bounced along energetically while Prowl walked much more calmly. Prowl couldn't remember ever having as much energy or peppiness this minibot had. Bumblebee was obviously young, not much older than a youngling and probably the same age, if not older than Prowl at spark. However the black and white mech couldn't ever recall being as enthusiastic or chirpy as this bot. How was it that this bot could act so happy and content?

The tactician didn't bother pondering the question, not wanting to push his battle computer. Such a line of thought would undoubtedly end badly for him. Despite the obvious improvement in his battle computer since the surgery all those orns ago it was still not a good idea to aggravate the integral part of his frame.

Prowl heard the recreation room before he saw it, the group at this base much louder than out in the last sector. Different tones mixed together to make one mass of noise, weaving around itself to be contained in the one hallway before the social area.

Bumblebee dived straight into the noise, cutting through it with ease as he found his friends in a big group off to the side of the rec room. The centre of the room was being taken up by a group of troublemakers, easy to distinguish by their mischievous looks as well as their loud and argumentative manner. None of them sat still, each moving just slightly all of the time to use up the idle energy within their frames.

The black and white doorwinger cautiously entered the room, ignoring the slight pain that flared across his sensor net from the intense volume of the room. His doorwings were picking up ever little vibration caused by the speaking bots and feeding all the data in a constant stream into his processor. The best way to get rid of the distraction was to reroute the data stream into his battle computer where it would store such information until he could sort through it, probably when he was in recharge.

No one looked towards the tactician, despite the fact that he was certainly one of the latest bots moved onto the base. The base here was big enough that unless the bots knew you well, they didn't really fuss about the coming and going of others. The hesitant mech avoided the confusion that was the centre of the room, instead sticking to the sides and watching all that went on. His doorwings were comfortably pressed against the walls at all time, minimising the amount of sensory information they were collecting. In this way Prowl was reducing the intensity of the processor ache he would undoubtedly have the next orn after recharge.

Prowl didn't notice a figure coming up beside him until the mech decided to speak up. It was unusual for the tactician to let his guard down enough for someone to sneak up on him. In his mind, letting his guard down that much was nothing short of stupid and in some cases reckless. It was worse to be reckless than stupid.

"Are you the new tactician in our office?" a voice asked, cutting through Prowl's thoughts.

The black and white Datsun just tilted his head slightly as he looked at the mech speaking to him."Yes, I have just been transferred here from Delta Sector," Prowl replied, making sure to utilise all his sensors in case of someone else deciding to come over to them. He didn't like crowds and he certainly didn't like the fact that this mech had been able to sneak up on him.

"We were wondering when you would show up here, we've been down by three mechs for deca-orns now and that is much too long in the middle of all this ruckus," the mech answered, not giving away his designation.

Prowl didn't say anything in reply, just hummed quietly as his optics darted around the room. He wasn't one for long conversation and he just didn't know how to keep this particular conversation rolling, not without seeming socially awkward. The black and white mech knew that it would be a good idea to at least start off as part of the team-if at all possible. It hadn't worked last time he tried it and he doubted it would work this time.

"Well, I'm SilverStrike. I'm one of the strategist within the tactical department. We've got a bunch of different mechs in the team. The head of the department is a bit of an aft but we manage pretty well," the mech said, keeping the conversation flowing.

"My designation is Prowl, I cover a range of tactical areas such as diversionary tactics and attack tactics," Prowl replied, glad he didn't have to reveal too much about himself.

"It's good to have an all rounder. It's been ages since we've had anyone who could cover for the losses from the deparment. Mechs are always being swapped bases and just as we get good at working together someone is moved on. I've only been here a vorn but already the whole department has changed. You know, it's interesting because most of the Praxians that come through, which isn't many mind you, are tacticians. The city must have had a good program running for those interested in tactics," Silverstrike continued.

Prowl started to block out what the mech was saying. Silverstrike was certainly chatty and it was starting to give him a helm ache. He did tune in when he got to talking about Praxians and their tendency to be in the tactical sector. Had Smokescreen been through here? What other Praxians was this mech talking about? These were questions he would have to investigate sometime in the near future.

"You know we should head over to the office, it's almost time for shift. You're scheduled on with me today so we can head over together if you want. I'm not sure how much there is to do, I guess it depends on how things are going with the uprisings. I personally don't think it will be long before it is an all out war. Already we are starting to see the affects that are usually associated with war. Its just a matter of time until everything explodes into all out chaos," SilverStrike prattled on, placing his empty energon cube in one of the nearby recepticle containers.

Prowl followed suit before walking with the other mech towards the tactical offices. It was a relief on his audios, and helm when they got out of the recreation room. The noise that had once been all encompassing was now no more that a low drone behind them. Both of the mechs took long strides, wanting to get to work.

The black and white mech wasn't sure how many people would be one duty and was slightly worried about how he would interact with these bots. It seemed as though these mechs would be different from the ones in Delta Sector but he couldn't be sure.

Prowl had worried for nothing which he realised as he walked through the door. No one else was within the room. A large map was projected slightly above a table in the centre of the room. It was a three dimensional image, depicting Iacon. Around the outside of the room were computer terminals, the high speed devices specially designed for tactical work. On one side of the room there was one sole desk, there were different trays spaced across it's surface. Each had a label and was full of datapads.

"Well, you can work at that terminal over there," Silverstrike said as he gestured towards the right of the room. "That one is free because the mech got transferred off to another base three orns ago."

"Thank you," Prowl said as he went over to the terminal. He knew he probably wouldn't need it immediately and would most likely only use it for uploading complete documents.

"Well, looks like we need to make up some plans for the scout group. We've had some trouble out in the west of the city that needs to be investigated. Here are the mechs who have been chosen to go and their profiles. Get the report to the head of the Special Operations by the end of the shift. I've got a couple of other scenarios to work on."

Prowl took a look down at the datapads before walking over to the table in the centre of the room. The map would prove useful in devising a sound approach for these mechs. Speeding up his battle computer the doorwinger started to work out a comprehensive plan.

The shift flew by, not dragging on like many of the others had at the Delta Sector base. The office was quiet but absolutely silent. SilverStrike had a habit of swinging around on his chair or tapping on the bench in front of him from time to time.

It seemed the other mech didn't have a battle computer or other such software. He relied fully on the console in front of him. Silverstrike didn't even look over to the map, most likely already well acquainted with the city and its layout.

Prowl knew it wouldn't take long for him to memorise the layout of Iacon, it had a very similar layout to Praxus after all. It wasn't long until the shift ended and two new mechs came in and sat down at a few of the other consoles. The doorwinger sent of the plan to the head of Special Operations before saying a quiet "Goodbye" to SilverStrike and leaving the room.

The two new mechs were loud and boisterous. They plonked themselves down at their consoles with a cheerful "hello" to SilverStrike. A glance was sent towards Prowl but it wasn't long before they were joking and getting down to their work.

The black and white mech slipped out of the room quietly before walking back to his quarters. It had been a while since he had last recharged and he knew he would need to remain well recharged in order to deal with this new team. It wasn't that they were mean or cruel like his last teams, it was more that they were loud, overly so. It would take everything he had not to constantly have a helm ache. It seemed as though this base was very different to his last one. Maybe he would finally get credit for his work and rise up the ranks.

* * *

><p>Did you like the chapter? Please review! Who do you think the other mechs in the tactical department should be? (Not Smokescreen yet)<p> 


	25. Battle at Tyger Pax

Hey everyone! Quick update or what? I think I might be on a bit of a role now. I'm getting into the good stuff in my plot so it's much more interesting to write. I just typed up this chapter so there is probably a fair few issues throughout. Let me know about them in a pm/review and I'll make sure to fix them up. Did all of you get the email when the previous chapter was posted a couple of days ago? If not go back and read Chapter 24. :D

Thanks to everyone who is reading and reviewing this story. Also a big thanks to everyone who has favourited/alerted this story or added me to your author alerts/ favourite authors list. It always inspires me to keep going!

Sideslip's decided to be pretty game and have the twins' high grade brew which is possibly spiked. I hope he/she is having a good time with the high grade!

* * *

><p>Chapter 25<p>

Within the next two vorns the war broke out in earnest. What had started out as some organised uprisings had exploded into an all out war. The council had gone into hiding, where, nobody knew. What everyone did know was that the leader of the uprisings had been named, and was now in charge of the opposing force in the war. The mech's name was Megatron and he had formed the Decepticon faction. The Autobots, once just a term used for the Iacon City secondary enforcers group, was now the name of the faction siding with the council-more or less.

Recruiting drives had taken over the airwaves and covered the cities in posters. There was nowhere not affected by this war and everybot knew it. The recruiting drives had been relatively ineffective for the Autobots so far but the Decepticon faction had been growing in leaps and bounds. The gladiator rings had been the best recruiting ground but even the ordinary citizens of many of the cities had been recruited by some of the above the board recruiting stalls.

Kaon had now become impregnable, a fortress for the Decepticons. Those who got out of the city before the outbreak of war were the lucky ones, those that didn't agree with the Decepticons had been killed within the first few deca-orns of the city being closed off. The orn-care centers had been taken over and turned into training centres. There had to be a plan for the young mechs and femmes sometime in the future but right now that wasn't the most pressing issue for the tactical department.

Bots had been swapped to and from many of the bases and now the Iacon base was full to the brim with fighters, tacticians and command staff. Iacon had become the hub, the centre of the Autobots in a very short amount of time. The outer bases had been closed down, resources reallocated and shifted into the more important bases. The areas deemed high risk had become the major centres, barring Iacon.

Currently it wasn't thought that Iacon was at any risk from invasion by the Decepticons. Praxus though, that city was deemed extremely high risk. For the past four deca-orns the Decepticon attacks had been centred around the vast city. It's once beautiful architecture was now marred by many a firefight and the streets bare of any movement.

Bots stayed inside most of the time, unless they belonged to one of the two factions. Those that had to go to work used long abandoned tunnels and passageways beneath the planet's surface to get to their places of work. What many of them didn't realise was that the Decepticons knew of these underground areas and now that they had become the new streets of the city they were now at risk.

The tactical department of the Autobots which had once been woefully understaffed now had the most amount of workers that it had ever had. The newer recruits weren't anywhere near as well trained as those who had been there before the outbreak of war, but at least they were extra minds and servos.

Prowl, much to his own astonishment had been placed in charge of his own group of tacticians. Through the few vorns since he had been transferred to the Iacon base he had steadily built up a reputation for himself. He had gotten along with the team well and thrived under the new conditions. He was being pressured with less work and only had to concentrate on his own work while also using state of the art computers.

His battle computer, having more data and scenarios to focus on hadn't been playing up anywhere near as much as it had been at the last base. The different mechs in the department had learned to keep the topics logical after one near crash and since then they had had no such issues. Some of the mechs, like Silverstrike, had actually made it to becoming friends with the black and white doorwinger.

Although Prowl wouldn't go to the recreation room often, on the occasions that he did go his newfound friends would usually look out for him, steering the conversations away from illogical subjects. For many others on the base it had become a hobby to find out how illogical they could actually get a conversation before Prowl would show the symptoms of locking up. It made these mechs very amused in many situations.

The black and white doorwinger ensured that he kept well away from those bots and spent a lot of time working on scenarios etc. especially once strikes started to hit the cities. He had really proved his worth when some of the attacks had been centred around Tyger Pax. Two of the tacticians, Prowl included, had been sent out to the city to examine its layout. Tyger Pax was one of the few cities which they didn't have a detailed hologram of. The only other city being Kaon.

The two had scoured the city from left to right and back again, Prowl cataloguing it all in his processor in such a form that he would be able to transfer it onto the terminal's back at base. It wasn't actually part of the mission but he figured if they were going to be there and doing the scan anyways, he may as well make the effort to transfer it all into a reusable form.

On the second orn the two had been in the city it had come under attack. The transport shuttle that was meant to take them back to Iacon never arrived and so they were stuck in the city. This wouldn't have been so bad if the base's defences had held. As it was, this was the situation where the black and white doorwinger finally proved just how valuable an asset he was.

The two tacticians had just made it back to the base before all pit had broken loose. Prowl felt the swish of air across his sensor net as the heavy doors shut behind him. The outer walls of the base had shut right behind their tailgates as they rushed through the great entranceway.

Gunfire could be heard faintly, the strong, thick walls of the base dulling it quite substantially. Prowl's fellow tactician just came to a stop inside the doors, not bothering to move forwards. the mech looked frozen, obviously not used to situations with gunfire all around.

The black and white doorwinger left the other mechs in the building to look after the other tactician, he had much more important things to do. The sounds of war hadn't even registered in the Praxian's processor, so used to it all from the Delta Sector base.

Swift pedes carried him through the base towards the command centre. No bot tried to get in the doorwinger's way, all of them too worried with other things to bother with the mech striding through the hallways. Up ahead it was easy to hear where the command centre was, the sounds from the monitors spilling out into the hallways. Orders were barked in harsh tones, the sound carrying throughout the nearby part of the base.

Each mech knew their job well, fulfilling it to the best of their abilities. The mech's and femme's on comms were having the worst time, trying to coordinate so many different attacks while relaying everything from one team to the other. The frequency was much too busy for an open net, instead the few mechs in the command centre were having to control everything.

There were no tactical officers here, just mechs who knew how to fight. As good as that was Prowl knew that unless he gave them a hand they would be stuck at an impasse for a long time to come and eventually fall to the onslaught.

No one paid attention to the tactician as he slipped into the room and connected in to one of the data ports on the side of one of the terminals. Relevant information was downloaded swiftly before the black and white mech disengaged himself from the system. His battle computer kicked into overdrive with a soft hum as the data was processed.

The city data from earlier was pulled from file as the Praxian started to simultaneously run a withdraw scenario and sort out the current and future placement of troops around the base's perimeter. The information pouring through from the communications net was subconsciously added to the data streaming.

The advanced battle computer hummed as it worked through all of the information. it wasn't long before sound plans were drawn up with backups in place. A quick glance around the room by Prowl showed that no one was paying any attention to him still.

All but darting across the room the tactician waited to talk to the commander in charge of this base, Ultra Magnus. The mech currently having a discussion with the commander was just wasting time, whining about the perimeter defence and saying nothing useful. The energon in Prowl's lines started pumping faster as the losses on the battlefield started to mount up.

"Sir, I apologise for cutting in but I do believe that we can work this situation to our advantage," Prowl cut in, subtly shoving the other mech back from the blue and white mech.

"And what do you propose we do?" Ultra Magnus asked, his tone stressed and optics frequently darting to the screens displaying the current situation.

"We need to rearrange the troops along the wall and make the comms line much more efficient. We are giving a lot away to the Decepticons across the comms so we need to cut down on the chatter. If we are not efficient here in the command centre our troops are going to be anything but efficient when we really need them to be. I have drawn up an evacuation plan if that is what this battle comes to. Hopefully it will not but unless we step up our game the Decepticons are going to have us beaten in a matter of jours."

"How are we rearranging the troops and how are we going to clean up the comms?" questioned Ultra Magnus as he walked over to the large screen on one side of the room, Prowl sticking close to his side.

"The comms is an easy fix, put me in charge of them. I am capable of running such a net by myself and without so much fussing around. As for the troops, if we go over to the planning table I will show you what we need to do," Prowl answered, walking straight to the planning table without waiting for an answer.

Once there the black and white mech hooked up to the table, quickly using his processor to bring up the respective map. In each area of the map were different team names. Off to one side of the table was a list of the teams and the different bots who were to be in them.

"This is how we should restructure the teams and space them around the perimeter. If we follow this plan my battle computer calculates a 92% chance of the Autobots winning this battle," Prowl stated, looking towards Ultra Magnus as he waited for the go ahead.

The commander scrutinised the map carefully before looking over at the tactician. "Put the plan into action."

From then on the command centre became a structured hive of activity. The comms mechs were moved to back up and Prowl took over the comms unit. The bots around the perimeter were split into their groups and placed in the correct positions.

The units worked smoothly in synchronisation, although they weren't actually aware of this. Each attack that was thrown at the perimeter was fought off with relative ease. Many lives were save throughout the fight by the thorough planning of the doorwinger.

Although none of those out fighting ever realised it, most of them owed their lives to the Praxian tactician. The fight originally had the outcome of 18% chance of them winning with 98% of the troops dying either in the fight or from wounds. It was only those in the command centre throughout the fight who realised just how good the tactician was at his job and just how many lives he had saved that orn.

That had been the orn where Prowl had proved just how much of an asset he was and just how well he performed his duties. Because of this he had ended up in charge of a tactical group at the Iacon headquarters. The team worked well enough however they certainly didn't get along well when not on duty.

When they were on duty Prowl managed to keep them all in line but outside of the tactical office they were usually brawling. Half the team was made up of the new recruits while the other half was made up of the old hands. Luckily SilverStrike had been placed in the team and the mech seemed to have some control, however minimal, over the group when off duty.

Following the incident in Tyger Pax Prowl's battle computer had started to fritz again. It had started off being only very ocassionally but it had started to become more frequent, much more like it had been out in the Delta Sector base before the operation.

However, it didn't get too bad until the teams on all the bases were swapped up again due to a loss in the higher ranks. More work was pushed onto Prowl and the head of the tactical department was changed again, to Smokescreen.

* * *

><p>Well that's it for this chapter. Reviews? What do you think about me doing up a oneshot for whoever is the 100th reviewer as their prize?<p> 


	26. A Task

Hey Everyone!

It's a magical chapter! Finally got around to updating this. Ran into some writer's block but managed to get right back on track. I got dragged into some different fandoms for a bit. These fandoms included Vampire Knight and Thunderbirds. I was even inspired to write a oneshot for Thunderbirds! :) Yep, a whole 3k oneshot. So, now that I've gotten those fandoms out of my system I'm back into Transformers. I guess I also haven't been so into this fandom due to a lack of updates or the completion of a lot of stories on my favourites/alerts list.

It's been so long since the last chapter that I can' remember who i owe high grade to! Well, the competition is still standing for the 100th review. Thanks to everyone so far who has been reviewing/favouriting/alerting this story and myself! :) Well, here's the chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

><p>Chapter 26<p>

In the following vorns the war changed and morphed. Originally bots had flocked to the Autobots and Decepticons to join up, the ranks remained full despite losses and both factions were doing well despite circumstances. Such rapid sign-up couldn't be sustained though, there was only so many bots on Cybertron fit for active duty or who actually wanted to be involved.

The cities became ghost towns, no bot to be seen. There were craters everywhere, signs of battle everywhere you looked. Buildings bore the mark of laser fire while in alleyways you could find any number of greyed frames.

The bots were cycled through the bases with speed. Those who did well lived on, through the orns, decaorns and eventually the vorns. Those who just couldn't pick up the knack of fighting were killed within their first orn. The general rule was, if you lived through your first three orns out fighting you were good for the next few vorns. In each bots first few days they would see any number of comrades fall to the Decepticons, the faction outnumbering the Autobots.

It didn't help that the Decepticons were built for fighting, unlike the Autobots. So many of the Decepticons were fighters, gladiators or even mining mechs. The mining mechs' strong armour and tall, broad frames did them in good stead on the battle field and the gladiators' training kept them alive and functioning. It was those built for peace, for office work that didn't survive.

Training camps were set up but even then, the instructors for the Autobots were much inferior to those that served the Decepticons. Early in the fighting the city of Vos aligned itself with the Decepticons, giving them the advantage of air dominance. The factions were so unbalanced it was a miracle that the war wasn't won within a vorn.

The only thing that kept the Autobots going, that stopped the Decepticons from winning was their experienced tactical sector. Time and time again the troops would hear cool, calm and collected voices over their secure comm. lines, keeping them in position and coordinating the defence or attack. The troops came to trust one voice over all others-Prowl's.

It was an easy pattern to see, to interpret. More bots came back from the attacks or defences coordinated by the black and white door winger than ones coordinated by any of the other tacticians. The pattern might not have been seen by those in the tactical sector other than Prowl but it was certainly seen by those higher up the chain of command and the troops.

Smokescreen remained in command of the tactical sector until a vorn into the all out war, at which time the new commander was brought in. Smokescreen had certainly made it his mission to annoy and disrupt Prowl at every twist and turn. However the black and white Praxian had made some steadfast friends within the tactical team and so his fellow Praxian found himself thwarted at many times.

His processor, now concentrated solely on battle tactics eased off on it's fritzes. The mech avoided the recreation room as much as possible, dragged there only occasionally by Trailbreaker and Swiftstrike when some sort of party was going on after a particularly good battle. The door winger hadn't heard from the twins in a while but Ratchet, who was now on base, reassured him that they were fine and annoying the slag out of some poor bots over at the Tyger Pax base which had been re-established.

Prowl never realised it but he became a fixture of the base, a constant. He was someone many relied upon without even realising it. His battle plans, once pushed aside in favour of others were now given top priority. Every battle he was on the command deck, more often than not coordinating efforts.

The new head of the tactical sector hated him almost as much as Smokescreen had however this mech had a whole different reason for it. Apparently, his battle plans were 'too good' or the 'work of a traitor' which was pointed out every time he submitted them. The mech chose to point out every little thing he thought was wrong with the plans, never going back on what he had said, even when the plans were chosen over his own.

The higher ups were paying attention to Prowl now though, specifically demanding his plans in many situations. The first plans to be looked out were always the Praxian's, the first person called upon to the bridge during an attack was always Prowl.

In time Prowl was called upon to train the communications mechs in how to control secure links to all mechs during a fire fight. His main trainee was Blaster although others such as Netwave and Closecom were trained up as well. Soon, he didn't have to connect into the net during an attack or defence, instead he just told Blaster and his co-workers what he wanted done and they relayed it across to each and every bot.

It helped that Blaster was a naturally organised bot, despite outwards appearances. He had a processor built specifically for split thought processors, perfect for such situations where multiple mechs needed to be contacted and controlled for a period of time.

Prowl was allowed to focus more on the tactics, the nitty gritty of the battle rather than the communications side of everything. Just dealing with so many data sources and his other teammates in the tactical department was enough, not to add everything else on top of it.

His team was close nit, tighter than many others however nowhere near as tight as the special ops team was rumoured to be. Prowl was rather an outsider on the team, as much as he was included in everything. He was more involved than the new head of the team but less than the others in the division.

The mech's in his department didn't get changed up all that much, thanks to the fact that the Iacon base was the Autobot's main stronghold. This absence of changing staff meant that they became closer as a group, working better together. Once people got shifted into the base it was rare that they were shifted out again. The sprawling stronghold was key to the training of the new recruits, development of weapons and control of all assets.

The upper ranks started to get targeted by the Decepticon assassins, the effect visible to everyone. Morale lowered significantly across all areas of the base, even Prowl was slightly affected by it all. These new attacks kept everyone on their toes, the black and white mech most of all. With so many possible ways for the heads of divisions to be targeted many new plans for their safety needed to be drawn up, especially in relation to possible battle scenarios.

Nothing major came to affect Prowl until he was approached in relation to drawing up some specific plans for the Special Ops teams. He wasn't approached in the planning area for the tactical division, instead he was payed a visit late at night in his quarters.

Walking quietly through the hallways Prowl held his energon cube loosely in one servo. The lights in the hallways were dim, accounting for the time it was. It was early in the orn, well past the usual shift times. Those that were up and moving about were doing so quietly so as not to disturb the majority of the occupants of the base.

The door winger had been up late yet again working on the scenarios for the division heads, a task that was extremely arduous. So far the only plans which had been extensively drawn up were the ones protecting Optimus Prime. The next to be worked on were the ones protecting the head of Special Operations. Those would take much longer than the Prime's to draw up, simply because of all the added variables.

Door wings held high Prowl palmed open the door to his room. His quarters had been changed from the on shared with Bumblebee due to the odd hours he was now working. Of course these hours weren't forced upon him but he stuck to them anyway.

The lights in his room flickered on as he entered, shadows still encompassing many of the corners of the area. The berth sat along one side, very invitingly to the tired tactician. Prowl yearned to just lay down on the berth and recharge, however he perched upon the edge of the smooth surface, sipping at his energon cube.

Lately he had become very eclectic in his remembrance to refuel. More often than not he would skip various refuelling times, not out of necessity but out of sheer plain thoughtlessness. Although the battle computer fritzs had become less intense he was finding that there were many other issues now instead. Just one of these was his forgetfulness in refuelling or other tasks pertaining to his frames continuing function.

Sitting there, wings pressed against his back and sensors running on their lowest function, the black and white mech didn't notice the other frame until it was too late. Servos twisted him around with ease, shoving him into the berth, faceplate down. The energon cube went skidding across the room, the second hard servo yanking his arm deep into his back.

Lip plates parted in a hiss. The battle computer came whirring to life, all energon in his systems now diverted to his primary defence mechanism. The sensors on his door wings were set alight with pain but pre written coding overrode the messages to his processor. Optics were bright in the darkness, the only thing that could be seen was the pale orange colour of the berth below him.

The slim, nondescript frame of Prowl's attacker was illuminated in the dim light of the room. Optics which should have been bright, piercing were dark, on their stealth setting. There was nothing to be picked out on this frame, no defining feature. The mech himself was a clean slate, a mech who could change his personality, his thoughts to fit the bot he had to imitate or make up.

Prowl's battle systems sprang to life with the input of his battle computer. Energon which he should have been storing now being drained into the long dormant systems. The battle computer statistics were clear. This was an enemy, the mech needed to be neutralised. He was a threat to Prowl's wellbeing.

In response the mech's battle systems became stronger, becoming the main system running. Silently, oh so silently these systems ran. The mech didn't make a sound, nothing to give him away. A knife slipped from its hidden area in his wrist, to rest lightly against the back of Prowl's neck.

Vocaliser set to neutral the mech spoke, "I need you to do a job for me Prowl and it needs to be done urgently. Think you can handle it?"

Prowl didn't move, the voice sounded eerily loud in the quiet room. Nothing could be picked out about this voice, it was as non-descript as the computer voices. If he hadn't known better he would have thought it was the bases intercom system alerting him about an upcoming drill.

"Not until I know who you are and why your are here. Who sent you?" the door winger replied, voice strong despite his current position.

"You don't need to know anything other than I am from the Special Ops department and the message comes from higher up the food chain. Can you undertake the task?"

Prowl deliberated. This was just the kind of thing that Special Ops was want to do however it could be a Decepticon trick. "Yes, I shall undertake this task, so long as it is appropriate."

The non-descript silver mech leaned in close to Prowl, almost every cillimetre of his body coming into contact with Prowl's. Lip plates close to the black and white mech's ear the special ops mech whispered, "There is a mission coming up, you need to do up the plans for it. You will be sent more information via your personal communication link. You are not to speak to anyone about undertaking this task or the fact I was here, understood?"

"I understand," Prowl said, his own voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Shut down your optics." The command was immediately followed. "I am going to let go of you now, stay like this, exactly like this and count to 100 slowly. You are then allowed to move around."

The servos pressed upon the door winger were removed quickly, lifted free of his frame. The absence of error messages flashing across Prowl's HUD was a relief. He didn't move, not one energon line as he started counting.

Not a sound was heard until the door swished open and closed again. No footsteps, no sounds of systems running, the mech was silent and stealthy. He wouldn't be spotted on camera, no, noone would know of his late night venture.

Prowl counted well past 100 before he powered on his optics and moved back into a standing position. His optics fell to the energon cube across the room from him, its contents now spread across the floor. Lifting his line of sight the tactician found another, fresh cube of energon and a stock-standard data pad sitting next to it.

Walking over to it Prowl glanced down. "Here is a replacement cube. Refuelling more often would be in your best interests, we can't have mistakes." The cube grasped in one servo the black and white mech erased the memory of the data pad and placed it upon his desk. A cloth was removed from subspace and he slowly mopped up the mess upon his floor. Depositing both cubes in the trash the tactician powered down for the night. There would be more work than ever to complete now, and some of it would have to be impeccable.

* * *

><p>I know where I'm going with this story now so all cool. i'll try to write some more tonight. Might be a while until my next update though. Now that you've read it, please review!<p>

Question: What was your favourite episode from G1?

Mav


	27. Finishing the Task

Hey Everyone,

Here is chapter 27. I think it may be a little fluffy but well, it is kind of essential to the plot I laid out at the beginning. Things are going to start heating up soon so woohoo! :) I hope you are all enjoying this fic and I am sorry for the delay in updates. I've been crazily doing Camp NaNoWriMo June (which i have officially won). The fic in question is "A Hell on Cybertron" which is linked to this fic so go check it out :) Now, enjoy the chapter!

Mav

* * *

><p>Chapter 27<p>

The orns were full to the brim now, more work than ever to be completed. The mech hadn't returned to talk to him again but instead, mystery packages started turning up in his quarters. It unnerved Prowl to know that a mech could get into his room at any time without any hassle. What did that show for the security of his own private area?

Anybot determined enough would be able to get in and kill him if that was there target. That certainly did not comfort Prowl in the least. Creator Three was certainly still looking for him, there was no way he was going to give up anytime soon.

A datafile had been sent through his personal comm. link the orn after the encounter. No one had been around at the time so Prowl had opened it up and taken a quick look. A small, sharp intake of breath was his only outwards reaction but inside his processor was whirling.

There was a mission coming up but it certainly wasn't just any mission. Prowl had assumed, somewhere in the back of his processor, that the plans he would be drawing up would be used for one of the not-so-important special ops bots. As it was though, he would be doing up the plans for none other than Meister.

The mech had a reputation throughout the Autobot army as well as the Decepticon ranks. Anything that was sabotaged within the Decepticon fleet was always blamed on the mech, the tactical bots always applauded the unknown bots efforts in gaining intel. Meister was one of their best, never missing a trick.

Each orn, during the normal working hours Prowl would diligently work on all of the different plans needed to uphold the Autobot army as well as the extra plans needed for protecting the Prime and other heads of division. During the nightcycle though, the doorwinger's processor was busy working out just how this mission was going to work.

There were mountains upon mountains of intel to sift through and compile in order to configure the plan. It was helpful in a way but in other ways it made that much more work. There were vorns of information here and only one bot trying to work through it, to process it.

Prowl was doing it all through his helm, his battle computer running over time in order to get through everything. There was a very short deadline for this plan and there was no way to extend that time. Two orns, there were only two orns where they could get the bot into the complex before their window of opportunity would close again. It would sound like an overly long time to some but to those who knew procedures it was a very short time gap indeed.

The super fast transport shuttle would leave the base in the middle of the nightcycle at the start of the two orn period. The travel to the base would take a good half orn if everything was calculated right. The shuttle wouldn't be able to land at the actual base and would instead land a couple of kliks away, just outside of the patrol borders in the district.

During the night cycle Meister would leave, working his way into the nearby settlement on the outskirts of the decepticon stronghold. From there he would stay in the village and wait for the day cycle. If the intelligence was right then the sign up desks for the Decepticons would be open at that time, ready to take in all the stragglers who came from the village.

A bot arriving in the settlement during the night cycle wouldn't stir up any unusual rumours. Most of the bots signing up with the Decepticons were running from the law in other parts of the planet while others had a past that they needed to get away from. As such, there were any number of bots entering the area during the darkest hours of the cycle, perfect concealment for the operative.

Signing up shouldn't be an issue as the Decepticons weren't all that fussy on who they had in their ranks. If you could shoot, brawl and mercilessly plunder then you were into their ranks. Of course there was a possibility of needing to pass a small test, such as killing another bot or sparkling. Such things were inevitable and each mech within the special ops department knew their job well on that scale. They had been trained for every eventual option.

that was the rough plan Prowl had put together so far. The likelihood of success was only at 53%, no where near high enough for it to be a good plan to put into action. the issue was all the different variables, especially the unknown ones. What if it happened that the Decepticon's had swapped up their patrol times or the parameters of the patrol? There was no way the plan could be adjusted to take in this change.

All the little things that could go wrong were weighing on Prowl. He didn't want to have to submit this outline to the special ops mechs but he knew he would have to. There was no way to improve the odds of the mission and the bot's life would just have to hang in the balance. The odds of success would have been even lower than they were currrently if the bot chosen hadn't been Meister.

Meister could improvise in most situations and 75% of the time it would work out to benefit him. the other 25% of the time it would go badly. This had been factored in to the mission, making the outcome look even more dreary to the doorwinged mech.

What Prowl didn't know was that most missions undertaken by the department had a success rate of under 10%, well below his estimate for this mission. The tactical bots within the special ops department were some of the best, only just below Prowl in their computing capabilities. If they couldn't get higher than 10%, Prowl would have been the only one to be able to get higher.

The nightcycle dragged on for the doorwinger as he sat at the small desk in his room. The battle plans lay in front of him, the only thing marring the clean workspace. Prowl's optics were dimmed and his helm bowed slightly as he stared at the table. There was nothing running through the bot's processor, he was just sitting there waiting for the special ops bot to come and collect the datapad.

The doorwinger had consumed some energon earlier in the cycle, needing it to keep his systems functioning properly. Without getting much recharge it was hard for him to work at the optimal level. The other bots hadn't noticed the slight lag in his systems so far, thanks to an upped allowance of energon.

Prowl's processor and battle computer were starting to struggle though. Recharge was essential in order to get rid of faulty routing and any new viruses that may have been contracted. The fact that the doorwinger hadn't recharged in over a deca-orn meant that his systems were clogged with unuseful processor routes and a multitude of viruses. As soon as this data pad was handed over the mech was planning on getting some recharge.

Hopefully then he wouldn't feel as though he was on the verge of having a fritz all of the time. The dooringwer knew that it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge to an all out fritz, probably one of the worst he had experience in a long time. Prowl just hoped that nothing would trigger his battle computer until he could get some recharge.

The doors behind Prowl opened quietly, admitting a mech into the room. Despite his doorwings Prowl could barely sense where the mech was. The bot was obviously making sure not to move too much of the air and moved absolutely silently.

"Okay, helm on the desk and optics shuttered," the mech demanded quietly as he moved forward.

Prowl complied with the orders, thankful for being able to switch of his optics even if for a brief amount of time. The last orns had certainly worn him down. All he wanted the mech to do was take the plans and leave, leave him in peace.

The special ops mech moved forward, checking to make sure the tactician's optics were shuttered nicely. Picking up the datapad the bot moved backwards and flickered the screen on. A cursory glance was all he needed to ensure that this was the file they were looking for.

"Keep your helm down and optics shuttered for ten kliks, then you can go into recharge. The department thanks you for your work."

Prowl faintly heard the mech leaving as he sat in the chair, optics shuttered. Ten kliks would drag on forever, even though it wasn't a particularly long amount of time. The datapad was gone now and he wouldn't have to deal with the impending deadline anymore. What happened now would be up to Meister and his skills in the field.

The ten kliks passed and it wasn't quick enough for the tactician. His neck was stiff as he moved over to his berth and laid down. The special ops mech was long gone by now, avoiding every camera and sensor along the corridor. It was likely that the plans were already in the hands of the head of the department, being looked over by Meister and other concerned parties.

The time for the plan to be put into action was only two orns away, just long enough for everyone to get ready and go. No longer did Prowl have to worry about the mission and what was going to happen but there was no way he would be able to put it out of his processor. That was his plan and there were bots who would be carrying it out.

Every time he submitted a plan, a battle outline or controlled a team in battle he felt responsible. Each death which occurred in the field weighed heavily on his spark, even though he knew it shouldn't. Most of the mechs, who led teams in battle never worried about it, never let the gloomy thoughts affect their processors.

However there was no way he could push it from his processor, from his spark. It was his plans that the bots had been following so why wouldn't he be to blame for their offlining? The other bots in his department would always try to persuade him to think differently, none of them affected by similar thoughts. Ratchet would hit him over the helm with a wrench if he brought it up at any point in time so that wasn't quite an option.

Meister, one of the best special ops mechs in the Autobot army was about to go on a mission which he had planned. If they lost this bot they may as well give up the war. It was known that he trained many of the others, held the team together all while performing his assigned duties. The mech was a legend in his own right and losing him would deliver a heavy blow to morale at the very least.

Prowl knew, if Meister was injured or killed there would be no way to point the blame on him. Everything that went on inside the department was secret, never leaving the bots who functioned within it. But those bots would know, the ones closest to the saboteur would know who had planned the mission. There wouldn't be any confrontations or anything of the sort but there were ways those mechs could make his life a living hell if they so desired.

However, would he or anyone else even know if Meister was injured? Everything was so secret it was really quite doubtful. Prowl hoped that he would at least be told either way when the mission ended. Otherwise he knew his processor would never be idle and his spark would be on edge for a long time to come.

Prowl fell into recharge on his berth thinking about all the possibilities of this upcoming mission. This mech he had never met was weighing on his processor more than any other. The doorwinger didn't realise but he had already met Meister and his death would cause a larger blow to his spark than he could ever imagine.

* * *

><p>Now we all know who Meister is don't we? :) Review please!<p> 


	28. Swiftstrike's Find

Hey Everyone!

I know it's been forever since I got the last update out but now I'm on holidays for two weeks I'll hopefully get another chapter out soon. We're at 98 reviews, we've almost made it to 100. I've been running a poll on my profile to find out if you guys, the readers wanted a forum for the story. After six people reckoned they wanted a forum I created one. You guys can find it here: forum/Life-of-a-Datsun/118819/ It's just a place to chat about this story, A Hell on Cybertron and To the Academy and Beyond. It's also a place to share ideas on where the stories are going and just general love for our different characters. If any of you readers are artists, I'd love to see some impressions of the OC's that turn up in here. If there are a couple of different artists out there I'll run a competition for who can design the best cover for this story which shall replace my DP when the story shows up on the fic list under Transformers Works. As for the 100th reviewer, the lucky reader shall get a oneshot of their choice written by moi! :) something to look forward to. Anyways, now that I'm done with my incredibly long spiel, enjoy the story and please review!

* * *

><p>Chapter 28<p>

Shock rippled through Prowl, moving with devastating ease within his frame. His processor and battle computer were already trying to lock up but he didn't have the opportunity for that kind of distraction right now. There were bots all around him and really the news shouldn't have been all that hard for him to take. There was absolutely no reason for this reaction, in their optics at least.

Jazz was injured, admitted into the medical bay late in the night cycle. Only now was Prowl hearing about it and that because he was overhearing a conversation between a couple of other mechs here in the building. Apparently Jazz had been out and about leading one of the missions when everything went wrong and he was brought back in to base badly injured.

Prowl didn't really know just how bad Jazz was but that didn't really matter. He was injured and no one had bothered to tell him at all. Surely Ratchet would have bothered to at least comm. him, if he had time. That was another worry, the only reason Ratchet wouldn't have time would be if he was too busy working on Jazz.

The doorwinger didn't even know if his friend was stable yet or not. He had no clue whether Jazz would make it through another night cycle or if he was likely to fall offline within the next couple of joors. The tactician's processor was spinning as he tried to control all of these unusual emotions within him, lock them behind a barrier.

Prowl just managed to get the emotions under control and locked away as the latest head of the department walked into the room. It would certainly not do if he looked even slightly unproductive in this mech's presence as he had it out for him. Prowl turned back to the work in front of him and vowed to put the bad news out of his mind until later when he could deal with it.

The black and white doorwinger couldn't get to his room quick enough when his shift ended. The world which usually interfered with his life was blocked out as he sank down on his berth. The emotions which had been locked behind the steadfast barrier now broke free, flooding him with the different feelings. It wouldn't be long until Ratchet would end up there, he was likely to fritz at any moment.

He hadn't known that Jazz was going out into the field, usually he did. Nowhere had he seen any planning whatsoever for his friend to be out there, leading a team. Maybe he had been put in to substitute with someone else but at the moment Prowl couldn't tell who it was that would have needed to be swapped out.

Was it one of his own plans which had gotten Jazz injured? Was he the reason his best friend, his only real friend was now in the medical bay? The questions whirled around in his helm with no answer to put them to rest. The unanswerable questions along with the emotions coursing through Prowl started his battle computer into a never ending spiral.

Prowl couldn't focus on anything but the fact that he could be to blame for Jazz's injuries. He didn't want to have that weighing down on his shoulders. If it was the truth though, how could he ignore it? Hatred for himself coursed through the tactician. He had an illogical urge to make sure that his friend couldn't ever be harmed again, that he could never be the reason Jazz got injured.

Another emotion swam through Prowl's spark as he sat there, helm in servos. Anger, a blinding hatred that swam through his wiring, blinding him with the intensity of it. Anger filled him, directed at the mechs who were responsible for hurting Jazz, his one and only friend. His frame began to shake, whether from the emotions that were beginning to overwhelm him or the illogical thoughts running rampant through his processor. It didn't matter what it was, too consumed by his thoughts the tactician didn't even notice the rattling of his frame.

The noise filled the room; the sound of crying soon joined it. Sobs wracked Prowl's frame, turning him into a spluttering mess. Fans began to whine as his processor began to lock up. Illogical thoughts, questions running in circles and all to overwhelming emotions combining together to overrun his battle computer.

Line after line of coding was deciphered by his battle computer until the point where it began to lock up. His optics began to fritz, static filling Prowl's vision. Feeling was lost to all of his limbs as he fell from his berth to the floor.

The doorwinger lost all motor function to his frame, no processor power being used to look after his systems. Energon ran down his cheeks, creating lines of moisture which began to dry. Plating rattled and crashed while his audio receivers frizzed out. The tactician could feel the temperature of his frame rising, could feel the heat he was generating.

Trying to push everything out of his processor to calm himself down, Prowl knew the effort was fruitless. It didn't matter how much he tried there was no way to get rid of this fritz. The emotions, the thoughts it was all consuming him.

Locked within his mind the tactician wished that Ratchet would get there to help him out, to stop his battle computer from this fritz. His body heat continued to rise, the vents in his helm opening up to let out the built up hot air. It wasn't enough to cool him down though and soon enough wiring began to melt, causing others to short circuit.

Hearing and sight completely shot Prowl sat in a crumpled heap, his frame in absolute agony. Sensors began to fire off all over his chassis, the burnt out wiring in his neural processors triggering the varied reactions. Everything hurt, phantom wounds could be felt across his doorwings, down his legs and across his torso. Old wounds were once again haunting him as the nerve endings began to fire off.

Consumed with the grief and agony, a plea for help on his lips Prowl's chassis began to lock down in order to preserve his systems. Never before had he gotten to this point, never before had he felt this much pain. Frame shutting down on him all Prowl could think about was how he had to find out what happened to Jazz and how he had to get rid of the pain.

Unconscious and injured Prowl fell into stasis on the floor of his room. His fans fell silent as his frame cooled down. The room was as quiet as a tomb, nothing disturbed it. The lone occupant left alone in his anguish.

* * *

><p>Swiftstrike looked around the recreation room, hoping to find Prowl squirrelled away in one of the corners with a cube of energon. Sighing he realised that Prowl wasn't here, nor was he in the tactical office. Just where had that mech gotten to?<p>

There were a lot of reports that needed to get done and a battle was coming up where they just had to have Prowl's help. No one had seen their star tactician in joors and Swiftstrike was beginning to get worried. Trailbreaker hadn't seen Prowl around either so just where had he gotten to?

Earlier he had tried to see if Prowl was in his quarters but knocking at his door had proven that the mech wasn't inside, unless he was in a very deep recharge. Swiftstrike had tried pinging his comm. System but nothing had come of that either. It was as if the doorwinger had disappeared from the base completely.

Huffing, Swiftstrike turned around and headed towards Prowl's quarters to try them again. Where else the tactician would have gone he had no clue. His best option right now was his quarters.

Halfway to his fellow tactician's quarters he received an alert to his comm. System from Ratchet wanting to open up a link with him. Registering it with his HUD Swiftstrike prepared for the incoming call.

:I can't leave the medical bay right now but I need you to head to Prowl's quarters and check up on him for me. I think he might be in stasis so I need you to override the code and get into his rooms. Bring him to the med bay immediately. Is that clear?:

:Yes Ratchet.:

The comm. Line was disrupted and Swiftstrike picked up his pace. Wondering what could have happened to the tactician he hurried forward. Reaching the door he didn't bother to knock, instead hacking straight into the system controlling the sliding door.

As soon as it was opened he rushed inside and stopped dead. Swiftstrike didn't even register the door shutting behind him, nor the fact that the lights were blasting. It was obvious that the mech in front of him had not been laying down to recharge.

Right in front of him in a crumpled heap was Prowl. His doorwing was stuck out at an odd angle but that was the least of the tactician's worries. His helm was hanging open, wide open allowing all kinds of different foreign material into the very delicate wiring in his helm. Severe processor damage could occur from this kind of thing, what was Prowl thinking?

Stepping closer Swiftstrike prepared to pick the doorwinger up, unsure of how to do so because of the doorwings. Putting pressure on the one angled off to the right wasn't a good idea but he didn't know how else he was going to pick this bot up.

He stopped worrying about that as soon as he saw the damage inside Prowl's helm. It was a mess, never mind foreign damage there was melted wiring in the tactician's processor. There was no way this mech was going to be helping them out with any of the scenarios that orn, possibly never. Ratchet was going to have to work a miracle to get that fixed.

Ignoring doorwings or any other possible damage Swiftstrike scooped Prowl into his arms, whirled and opened the door. Charging down the corridor the mech made for the med bay with all due haste. The sooner his friend got to Ratchet the better, if there was any hope of helping the tactician.

Swiftstrike passed no one in the halls, a good thing because if anyone had stood in his way he would have just run into them, over them and continued on. His mission was the med bay and he was going to get there in the quickest possible time.

It seemed as if each and every corridor stretched on forever. All Swiftstrike could hear was the sound of his fans whirring and each pede as it collided with the ground. Air whistled over his frame as he hurtled forward at an alarming rate.

The doors to the medical bay swished open in front of him as he catapulted into the room. Optics wide he searched for Ratchet in the room. There were no other medical bots in the room and barely any mechs were in there for overnight observation so the room was practically empty. Ratchet was nowhere to be seen so Swiftstrike gently laid Prowl down on a bench and went in search of Ratchet.

Swiftstrike found the medic in the adjoining room, leaning over Jazz's chassis as he fastened together the outer seams of the bot's midriff. Ratchet looked up from his work and placed down the welder immediately at the look on Swiftstrike's faceplates.

"It's bad Ratchet. The wiring in his helm, it's all melted. Joined together like a bunch of half melted energon treats. The panels on his helm, their hanging off I can't believe they're even still attached. And oh boy, his doorwing is sticking out at such an angle I don't want to know how painful it would feel right now, if he was conscious right now that is. He was just lying there, right on the floor in a crumpled heap. I was frozen, well I was at first but then I brought him straight here. He's out there, on one of the berths. Ratchet you have to do something!" Swiftstrike babbled, following after Ratchet as the medic bolted out to the general area of the medical bay.

A sharp intake of air and the medic had picked up the tactician, taking him straight through to the operating room without saying a word. The damage was bad; Swiftstrike couldn't even know how bad it was.

"Thankyou Swiftstrike, thank you for bringing him here for me. Prowl's going to be fine. You can't tell anyone what you saw. Now I have to go."

With that last comment Swiftstrike knew he had been dismissed. Ratchet's frame disappeared into the operating room and the tactician decided it was time to head back to the tactical office. Somehow he would come up with an excuse for Prowl; right now he was more worried about whether his fellow tactician would come out of this online.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! Please review and drop in over at the forum if you can.<p> 


	29. Online

Hey Everyone!

As promised, a second chapter not long after the last one. We have made it to 100 reviews! Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. We still have a ways to go and I hope you all continue to enjoy and share this fic. Don't forget the forum is open and we'd love to see you there, that include the hundreds of lurkers which i know are reading. Congratulations to Kai-Chan for being the 100th reviewer. Your fic is on the way, I promise to word war it out tomorrow night, followed closely by the next chapter for A Hell on Cybertron. Hopefully I'll get another chappie out before November but if not do not expect updates until October because once again I am doing NaNoWriMo with an original story this time. I'm sure you all remember than this fic was born in November last year during the epic NaNoWriMo. So fellow writers, come and join me on an adventure if you dare. I'd love to have some friends nanoing with me. Well, that's it for now. Enjoy the chapter and review please!

* * *

><p>Chapter 29<p>

Jazz's frame came online with a jolt. Throwing himself off the berth the saboteur whirled around, attempting to un-subspace knives that he no longer had in his possession. His frame protested the violent movements but he didn't care. How did he know that he was safe? He could be anywhere, could be still in the Decepticon stronghold where he had spent so much time before everything went south.

Optics came online long after his body was moving. Surveying his surroundings Jazz was happy to see that he was back in the Autobot base at Iacon. On the side of the room stood Ratchet, watching him with rather wary optics. Good. The medic knew just how mechs reacted after coming out of a danger zone.

Jazz straightened up and flashed his usual grin at Ratchet. "Heya Ratch, you seem to be doing well today. How's things?"

His usually heavy accented had disappeared, covered by a strong Kaon accent. You really couldn't be too careful now could you? It wasn't hard to cover up your usual accent, change it for a rough street one. He knew how to take care of himself on the streets and around company; he had grown up on the streets.

"Well, it's going better now that you are online Jazz. We had a fair bit of a rush around the other day when you came in from your operation. However, that was soon forgotten when our best tactician ended up in here with a severe virus. I don't have long to talk, I need to get back into the operating room," Ratchet said, optics never leaving Jazz's frame.

"Who? Prowl…no how badly is he injured? Is he going to be okay?" questioned spilled from his vocaliser as Jazz struggled to comprehend this new information being received.

Surely prowl couldn't be that badly infected. He hadn't been gone that long, just a couple of orns…well deca-orns anyways. What had happened? Who had infected him? When Jazz got his servos on the mech that had infected prowl he was certainly going to destroy him. How had this happened!

"He's going to be okay. The virus came from one of the consuls in the tactical department which has been wiped clean. We have to rebuild a fair bit of his processors and parts of his frame. It wasn't good. He will be okay though."

Jazz felt the relief rush through his frame, a steadying wave settling his systems that he hadn't even realised were riled up. This wasn't good. Since when had he been so passionate about the doorwinger? Well, it was an obvious question with a rather obvious answer so he decided to ignore himself.

"Jazz, get out of here. You're cleared for light duties and I'll give you a check-up in a couple of orns."

Jazz shot a reproachful look at Ratchet, definitely not wanting to come back in for the check-up. Who had check-ups anyway? With a glare from the medic Jazz disappeared from the med bay down the hallways, heading straight for the tactical department.

* * *

><p>Prowl could feel pain, rushing through his body. There was no coherent thought, just feelings from around his frame. He could hear nothing and see nothing, nothing but his frame could be sensed. There was pain everywhere, so similar to his days at the enforcer academy and at his previous house that he thought for a moment that he was trapped there. Trapped in the building with his creator.<p>

Something seeped through his energon lines, creeping into all his systems. The sensors that were once alight with pain suddenly dimmed, pain disappearing. Prowl slipped back into full unconsciousness.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Prowl came around again much later. Each of his systems came online slowly, starting with his pain receptors. Why was it that they always came online first? Feeling returned through his frame, spreading from his spark to his farthest regions.

His helm hurt, he could feel pain resonating from within his processor, spreading outwards toward the metal which covered it. Next his audio receivers came online, slowly in degrees. He could hear static and almost panicked until real hearing returned to him. He could hear Ratchet's voice but couldn't hear the words he was speaking. Was the medic trying to tell him something important? What had happened to him?

Optics came online soon after, filled with blurry image at first they slowly cleared. It was hard to make out anything with a stark white like directly above him, shining straight into his optics. Prowl let out a groan as all of his function came back to him.

His doorwings hurt, his helm hurt, his optics hurt, everything hurt! He couldn't get over how much pain he was in. Wasn't Ratchet giving him anything to dull the pain, to keep this raucous helm ache at bay? What was the medic even doing?

"Prowl, prowl, can you hear me?" Ratchet asked voice low and soft.

To prowl it seemed as though the medic was yelling at him, the voice reverberating around his sore helm like a cooee echoed around a cave. Ratchet didn't have to be so loud; there was no need to shout. He could hear exceptionally well.

"Yes, I can hear you Ratchet," Prowl replied. His voice sounded loud in his own audio receivers but it seemed as though Ratchet was having difficult hearing him as the medic leaned in close attempting to make out what he said.

Ratchet watched as Prowl's lips moved, forming words that did not quite get past his vocaliser. Was the bot audio impaired or were his sensors drastically off? Leaning in close he could just barely hear sound escaping the doorwinger's lip plates.

"Prowl, I need you to dial back your audio receivers as they are on a very high sensitivity," Ratchet said, making sure to be softer than before. It seemed as though the Praxian's systems had all been reset after the numerous operations. It would take a long time to work past this incident, a very long time. Likely he would still be feeling the effects of the fritz deca-vorns into the future.

Prowl registered what the medic was saying and immediately dialled his audio receivers back. He had never set them up that high so why were they so sensitive? What had happened?

"Yes, I have done so Ratchet," Prowl replied, thankful to hear his own voice sounding perfectly normal inside his helm. It felt better to hear himself properly. Maybe now they could figure this mess out. What had happened, he really needed to know?

"It's okay Prowl, everything is fine. You suffered a fritz a few orns ago and had to go in for extensive surgery. Your systems are a little sensitive right now but you will be fine. Don't worry you'll be back working soon," Ratchet reassured the tactician, noticing the alarm on the mech's face plates. Seriously, this mech just loved his work or at least more than he loved socialising with other bots.

Suddenly his memory came back, each individual thought swamping Prowl with memories. He could feel his pain at Jazz's disappearance, at his injury. His best friend had been in the medical bay, practically on his death bed. Was he okay? Was his friend going to offline? Please, don't let his one and only friend offline now. It just couldn't happen. It couldn't!

Ratchet watched as the tactician began to freak out, emotions racing across his usually emotionless faceplates. This was not going well, he was freaking out over Jazz. Or that's what he assumed.

"Jazz is fine; he left the med bay two shifts ago. He's already back and working in his office. Now, I need to run some tests on you and ask you a couple of questions, okay?" Ratchet asked, demeanour calmer and more patient than usual. This was certainly an oddity.

Prowl's whole frame drained of tension. Jazz was fine, he was online and he was fine. He was already back at work. The relief he felt rendered him incapable of speech, Jazz was okay. The thought became a mantra in his processor, Jazz was okay.

Finally Prowl focused himself on the task at hand, getting his rather distracted processor back into line. It was a much harder task than usual and the tactician struggled to pinpoint the reason for it. Until it hit him like an energon blaster. His battle computer wasn't running or at least wasn't running at full force. How had he not noticed it? No wonder his emotions were running rampant and his thoughts scattered all over the place.

"Ratchet, what happened to my battle computer?" Prowl asked desperately. He wanted his battle computer back online, controlling these emotions. When it came back online it would just be harder to cope with the longer it stayed offline.

"We had to remove and rebuild it while you are offline, you need to make it reroute through your systems. There was a lot of damage done to the computer and your processor. Calm down and just try to calibrate it in. It'll be fine," Ratchet answered calmly, not looking at all phased by this turn of events. Then again the medic had some forewarning about what was going to happen unlike Prowl.

The doorwinger wasted no time in focusing on his battle computer, just a silent intruder sitting somewhere beyond his processor. It was hard enough to get a grip on the system let alone start it up and calibrate it back in.

The process was painstakingly slow and very painful. Who would have thought that such asset could cause such agony? Well, Prowl hoped he wouldn't have to go through anything similar anytime soon. They thought they had the problem fixed but it seems as though nothing had been worked out. He would have to contact SparkSoul at some point, get her to help him out. Maybe she could do something to stop this. He couldn't afford to keep crashing; someone was bound to find him out sooner or later.

Not too much longer and the battle computer was reintegrated into his systems, humming along in synchronisation with his processor. His frame was once again functioning normally. No more were his thoughts floating through his helm, running in rampant circles as he tried to grasp them. Everything was in a neat order, a list inside his helm. He knew everything that needed doing and in exactly what order he had to do it.

Focusing back on Ratchet he realised the medic was studiously ignoring him and focusing in on a datapad which he held in his servo. It seemed as though Ratchet had tried to give him as much privacy as possible while he went through the procedure. He was thankful to have such a medic as Ratchet, compared to any that had gone before who had neither cared nor given him any privacy. Maybe, just maybe he had stumbled upon a valuable if not odd friendship with the irritable medic.

"Are you ready for some tests now Prowl?" Ratchet asked, snapping his optics away from the rather interesting data pad.

"Yes, I am well prepared for some tests."

"How did the integration go, everything work okay?"

"Yes, it was rather painful and quite difficult to focus on the battle computer but I managed."

"Hmm."

Ratchet picked up a scanner before running it over Prowl's frame, checking for any issues with his vital signs, energon lines and various other systems. He needed to make sure that the doorwinger's chassis was accepting the new changes to its systems.

Prowl sat still and quiet as the medic ran his various tests. It wasn't anything that Ratchet hadn't run before and the tactician was perfectly capable of sitting still for a few kliks. He didn't find it nearly so difficult as the twin's did.

Ratchet carefully observed the different systems. Everything was working well, it seemed as though Prowl's systems were allowing all of the different changes to wiring and the medical grade energon that had been pumped into him while in stasis. It seemed as though Prowl would recover well.

Prowl was relieved when all the scans, questioning, poking and prodding were finished with. He was never usually tired but it seemed extensive surgery made him tired. Lying down on the berth he drifted into recharge restlessly, repaired battle computer working overtime trying to connect some subconscious information together which just didn't seem to fit right.

* * *

><p>Relatively short i know, but thanks for reading. Review please? Head on over to the forum to discuss the fic and the fandom.<p> 


	30. Emotions

Hey Everyone! Here is a slightly late Christmas present but a Christmas present nonetheless. I apologise for taking forever to upload buuuuut good news is I was an official winner of NaNoWriMo12. I now have both tumblr and deviantart so woohoo! :D As you'll all notice I have done up some covers for this story, A Hell on Cybertron and Peter's Dad. I've been sucked into the Avengers fandom rather quite abruptly so I felt a little OOC while writing this. Hopefully you all enjoy it. Now, because I'm not that great of an artist I was wondering what you guys would think if I ran a competition for the cover of this fanfiction. For details head on over to the forum (yes it is up and running and the URL is on my profile page). I hope you all enjoy this chapter and as a return Christmas present I would love some reviews. I'm hoping to get a chapter of A Hell on Cybertron up in the next few days so look forward to that. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chapter 30<p>

An orn later and Prowl was back to work. His processor was feeling sore and his frame wasn't anywhere near being in perfect condition. However these things he didn't mind so much, not when he was trying his absolute hardest to forget the few emotions which had flooded his spark and his processor while his battle computer had been offline.

His battle computer was now fully routed through his systems and linked up with his spark. It was painful in a way but the sharp pain of new wiring was beginning to fade so that it just left the usual dull ache that was a trade mark of the battle computer.

The feelings that had flooded him though were incompatible with the battle computer and so he had to keep his mind off of such things. The pain he had felt when he heard that Jazz was injured, the relief he had felt when he had heard the Jazz was online again and of course, the pesky emotion that was somewhere in his spark that he just couldn't name. It wasn't anger, it wasn't sorrow, it was just something else that he had never experienced before. A light flutter in his spark which was linked with a strong emotion, an emotion stronger than even the hatred he knew he harboured against his creator.

The numerous battle scenarios now running across the terminal in front of Prowl were helping to keep him occupied. His processor was whirling trying to keep up with the data and the tactician found it soothing, the raw data running through his battle computer and the battle plans slowly taking shape. This was something that he could rely upon and something that he was good at. When everything else failed, he could rely on his battle computer and the plans it formulated.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Jazz was roaming the hallways, his pedes just eating up the ground. He didn't know exactly where he wanted to be. Well, he did but he just didn't think he'd be welcomed there right at this point in time.

The saboteur wanted to see Prowl, to assure himself that the tactician was fine now and he was doing perfectly well in his position in the tactical department. He wanted to be able to go into the office and wrap his arms around the broad shoulders of the tactician and hold him tight. He wanted to run his servos along Prowl's faceplates, just to reassure himself that the black and white doorwinger was fine and that he wasn't going anywhere in a hurry.

Jazz knew that he couldn't very well barge into the offices at the moment and that touching Prowl in any sort of way, platonic or not, wouldn't be welcome. He would just have to suffice with looking at the tactician, following the curves of his frame with his optics.

Uh, it was just so frustrating, wandering around waiting for Prowl to either enter the rec room or head back to his quarters. Jazz just wanted to make sure that he was safe. The saboteur continued roaming the hallways, waiting for his tactician to finish up his shift.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Prowl was doing well, ignoring the emotions and everything that had transpired over the last two or three orns, at least until Swiftstrike entered the room. The mech had eyes only for his fellow tactician it seemed, as he strode across the room.

The black and white doorwinger felt a servo land on his shoulder; the weight of it although not unwelcome was somewhat disconcerting. Prowl found himself swung around on the chair so that he was facing Swiftstrike. The mech looked him in the optics, searching for something which he must have found because the servo suddenly disappeared from Prowl's shoulder.

"Are you feeling better Prowl?" Swiftstrike asked, curious as to the answer. There was no way that the mech could be feeling better already after such a spectacular crash, now would be the time to tell just how well the other tactician could lie.

"I'm feeling much better thank you." The reply was short and terse, a sure sign that Prowl's battle computer was fully in control.

Swiftstrike nodded, allowing Prowl to turn back to his work. The tall mech walked over to his own work station and settle down into the seat. Prowl had looked like he hadn't even been lying, his faceplates perfectly composed and no nervous twitching whatsoever. The mech was a talented liar alright, Swiftstrike would give him that. What though, had made this mech so good at lying?

Prowl finished up the work he was doing swiftly, feeling the heat within his processors start to build up. Swiftstrike's distraction had allowed the tactician just enough time to focus on the feelings in his spark and now his battle computer was rebelling against him. He felt as though he needed to work through the feelings, something he could only do with the battle computer turned off. The whiplash when bringing it back online would be horribly painful, but maybe the confliction within his processor would be reduced.

The black and white doorwinger pushed back from his work station and stood up. He left the room without ever looking around at the others who were there. Most mechs were in recharge at this time of night, not Prowl though. Sometimes it was much easier to be awake then it was to be in recharge.

Prowl's pedes glided softly over the hallways at the base, barely any thought being used to guide him towards where the private quarters were. The heat in his helm was building up too quickly to allow him to get to his room if he wanted to avoid a fritz. Instead he made for the wash racks near his quarters that were usually deserted. Most of the stalls never worked and there was never any hot water. Most looked these ones over in favour of the newer wash racks in the next hall over.

The black and white doorwinger all but ran to the last stall, sinking down against the wall. With a sigh he braced himself and switched of his battle computer. Finally letting his feelings loose from the confines that the battle computer placed around them.

Sobs wracked Prowl's frame even as the heat in his battle computer subsided. There was no pain now, no impending crash, just the pain of his feeling. First there was the agony of almost losing a friend, followed swiftly by the anger and frustration that had been building up inside.

The tactician could barely get a grip on the emotions, certainly not enough of a grip to start working through them. Was this how all of the mechs on the base felt all the time? Prowl didn't envy them their emotions. The sobs continued to build up within the doorwinger's frame, bursting from his lipplates as his chassis heaved.

O0o0o0o0

Jazz had continued his wanderings well into the night cycle, too keyed up to be able to sleep. He had just been wandering aimlessly when he had ventured near the sleeping quarters, wondering if Prowl had returned in order to go to sleep.

He never made it to Prowl's room, distracted by the sounds of a mech crying in one of the lesser used wash racks. The sound was spark breaking in its intensity. The mech sounded familiar to Jazz though so he cautiously ventured forwards into the darkened room. The noise was coming from the last shower stall and so Jazz crept forward, peering into the damp and dark space.

Huddled in the corner was an all too familiar form that Jazz had wanted to see for the whole cycle. There was Prowl, curled over himself in the shower stall, sobbing. There was no thoughts running through Jazz's head, he just threw himself forwards. His arms wrapped around the tactician's frame and his helm fell to rest on the doorwinger's shoulder.

Prowl didn't even tilt his helm up or try to figure out who was there, instead just nuzzling Jazz's chest plating. For Jazz it seemed that this was odd behaviour on the tactician's behalf but he just sat there quietly, offering as much comfort as he could. He hated to see his friend this way, he just couldn't bear it.

O0o0o0o0o0

Prowl had faintly heard footsteps approaching him as he sat there crying in one of the wash rack stalls. His frame was heaving with effort and his cooling fans were running fast. The doorwinger didn't bother to lift his helm as he heard the footsteps stop outside of the stall, nor did he flinch as arms wrapped around his frame.

The steady thrum of a spark close at hand helped to calm Prowl and so he snuggled close to the mech that was holding him. His helm brushed up against white plating and he sat there, not able to stop the energon tears from pouring from his optics.

Slowly his sobs subsided, the emotion within his spark dulling to a point where it was manageable. Prowl didn't move though, he sat there nice and still trying to sort through the emotions, mainly that nameless one he felt. It was hard to describe it and even harder to accept it.

Eventually all of the emotions had been sorted through, the pain, the fear, the anger and the unknown emotion. Prowl felt tired, an exhaustion creeping through his systems as he fought to stay online. He couldn't remember the last time that he had drunk some energon and it had been joors since he had recharged.

The tactician didn't want to leave the warm embrace of this mech though. He might feel uncomfortable sitting on the floor, in an unused shower stall but he was comfortable in whoever's arms were wrapped around him.

Prowl worked up the courage to lift his helm, to move from the comfortable position he was in. Slowly he shifted his helm up, tilting away from the mech beside him so as not to accidentally hit that mech's helm.

The black and white doorwinger didn't know who he expected it to be sitting beside him but the mech that he spotted was certainly not what he was expecting. Keeping a straight line of thought was difficult enough without his battle computer online but it became harder as he identified the mech beside him. Jazz.

It was Jazz sitting beside him, comforting him even as he sorted through the emotions relating to Jazz. How had this happened? Why was Jazz giving him such an embrace when surely this kind of embrace was used when mechs liked each other, and not just in a friendly platonic matter? This was just confusing.

The confusion must have shown on Prowl's faceplates as Jazz hurried to remove his arms from around his still frame. A look of sadness crossed Jazz's faceplates before swiftly disappearing, almost as though it had never been upon the white faceplates.

"Jazz?"

The sound of Prowl's staticy vocaliser filled the air, breaking the silence that had shrouded the two friends. Jazz visibly jerked at the sound, his optics darting away from the tactician's only to meet in a head on gaze astroseconds later.

"Ah…Ah heard you crying, Ah came ta see who it was and Ah just couldn't leave ya."

Prowl thinks this over for a moment, wondering why Jazz was even wandering around this late at night. Most sensible mechs were in bed by now and the insensible ones were out partying. Jazz would usually be partying so why was he around here?

"Well, I am alright now Jazz. Thank you for your concern. I think I may go retrieve some energon before recharging for a few joors."

Jazz looks stunned at Prowl's words, a look of astonishment crossing his faceplates as Prowl immediately jumps to his pedes and strides out of the wash racks. Jazz scrambles to his own pedes and catches up to Prowl before he reaches the hallway.

"Prowl…" Jazz grabs Prowl by the elbow and swings him around so they are facing each other. He has a moment where he can't think of what to say, so instead he just spills out his feelings. "Ya scared me mech. Ah woke up after my operation and ya were in stasis. Yah hadn't even left the building and ya had been harmed. Ah hate thinking of ya in pain and ah hate seeing ya in stasis. Yah mah best friend Prowl, it'd be even better if yah were more than just my friend."

Jazz ends his sentence there, his optics boring into Prowl's. He's just laid his spark bare and has nothing to hide.

Prowl's stunned at the flow of words from Jazz's mouth. He can't believe what his friend is saying. He had never thought about how much he could affect others when he was in stasis. He hadn't realised the effect he could have on Jazz. The one thing that really caught his thoughts was when Jazz said he wanted to be more than friends. How could they be more than friends?

"More than friends?"

Jazz looks at Prowl, his faceplates unreadable. "Uh, yeah Ah guess Ah'm asking ya if ya want ta date Prowl."

Prowl looks over at Jazz, understanding what his friend means. He's seen other mechs dating, has seen others who have spark bonded. It's a bit of an odd concept if you ask him but he thinks he might like to give it a go. That's what his spark tells him, his battle computer is still switched off so it doesn't get a say in the matter.

"Yes, I think I would like that Jazz."

Jazz's faceplates light up with a grin, his lip plates pulled wide. An answering smile spreads across Prowl's faceplates. Prowl feels that unexplainable emotion flit through his spark again, he still can't explain it but he knows that it must be a good feeling.

"I need to get some energon. My systems are running low."

"Ah'll come wit' ya, Ah haven't had much ta drink yet today."

The two walk companionably towards the rec room. There is no one there so they both get their allowance of energon before quickly consuming it and leaving the room. Prowl's systems are starting to slow down, a need for recharge consuming him. He still doesn't want to be alone though, the feelings of grief and fear too powerful when he is alone.

Jazz seems to sense this because as they reach the door to Prowl's quarters he steps inside with the tactician, nothing spoken between the two mechs. By now the tactician is barely able to stand on his own from exhaustion, a helpful arm wraps around his waist and assists him over to the berth in his room. The door is locked before he feels heat from another frame beside him on the berth. Jazz is on the side closest to the wall, lying down on his side with a servo lazily drawing patterns across Prowl's abdomen.

The doorwinger lies on his back, doorwings spread across the berth. His battle computer is offline as he slowly falls into recharge, comforted by the warmth of the other frame which is right next to his own. It reminds him of when SparkSoul fell asleep next to him all those orns ago.

* * *

><p>There it is, Chapter 30. Please R &amp; R and I hope you enjoyed!<p> 


End file.
